communion seed

he gave me a shabby old pouch
filled up with pomegranate seeds
& i wondered what this could mean
how fertile he wished me to be

he showed how many seeds i got
as much as happy days are left
& i swore we’d marry right there
no priest nor church ‘neath nude sun’s haze

he squeezed a seed ‘tween two fingers
& the juice sprinkled his palm red
like virginity on crisp sheets
i did not even hesitate

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

help yourself

i am not your project
not in need of saving
to be restored from drafts
nor be redone from scratch

not a work in progress
nor a fixer-upper
not in your portfolio
nor part of your cv

so kindly fuck right off
you smug, self-righteous toff
look for another dunce
to suffer your ‘guidance’

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

lungpipe shanty

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to breathe freely
to expand in every moment
my view beyond the horizon
has taught me to get drunk on air
raise a toast to the blissful life
uncork & exhale my dreams
& inhale all possibilities

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me not to hie away
from each rum quaff of oxygen
each gulp, each gasp, could be the last
has taught me to square my shoulders
wear my sailor’s crown on high
walk the plank with a shambler’s jaunt
use my voice with ne’er a grumble

that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to sing shanties
to marinate beneath the stars
away from landlocked bores
has taught me to stand before storms
to know my place within them all
when even acid rain stings my lungs
when even the mast punches my lungs

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

short shot

in the grand scheme of things
his tears meant nothing at all
that’s why he piled them up
& cast silver bullets
well, they weren’t really silver
but he at least could pretend
he just needed a pistol
so he lined up his crutches
(which weren’t really a firearm
at least he could pretend)
but then came the police
more trigger happy than he
in the grand scheme of things
his death meant nothing at all

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

rainy night hootenanny

ev’ry moon became a witness
to deeds enacted in darkness
ev’ry tree became a bare cross
o’er graves bloated with stolen breath

ev’ry victim rattled their bones
clawed through clod & stony pendence
ev’ry perpetrator did quake
at the purging wails of black lungs

tears & fears & feeling dread
moons & junes & severed heads
joni mitchell lightly treads
‘twixt chaos & justice fed

ev’ry wednesday became friday
ev’ry weekend one more party
ev’ry hangover a new drill
ev’ry riot a revelry

beers & cheers, tyranny shed
chooms & rooms with wine & bread
& joni mitchell lightly treads
‘twixt it all, her muse must be fed

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024