Water Cure

“Drink.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Drink, I say! You look very thirsty.”

“But… Hey, what are you doing?!”

Streams of water pour on me. I try to face away… I try to cry foul… but my voice drowns in the streams.

“Drink!”

I splutter. I cough. A gray dusty clot, almost weightless, lays inside my empty head. Dehydrated words are tied in a bunch like Chinese tea.

“Drink!”

I choke. I’m full of water. The words start to spin in the whirlpool and swell. The words take shape and color. The gray dusty clot unfolds inside my head… blossoms… and slowly fills the entire space. Now there’s nothing except a big moist poem here. My head is full of the poem, like a tiny teapot with beautiful blooming tea.

“Well, my girl… Now… do you realize how much you were thirsty?”

“Screw you…”

I wipe my wet face and cuss mildly. She smiles and says something… but I don’t listen to her. I open my laptop. WP Admin, Posts, Add New…

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA 
© All rights reserved 2015

a Guest

You say that others’ mistakes can’t teach.
Time is cruel and doesn’t cure.
May I help you? I’m not really sure
but I promise to listen to your speech.

You say that darkness is the brightest light,
that the loudest scream is mute…
I nod. I don’t argue with the whiteness of soot
and the preeminent grandeur of blight.

You shout and whisper. You laugh and cry.
My task is to put a kettle on fire.
You run round the room like a gyre.
I take cups from the shelf and slice up a pie.

You finish and go out into the night
with salutary lightness inside your chest.
…I don’t get the money from my nightly guest.
My royalties are my permission to write.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015