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