the Pythia

How have I perfected the smoky oracle-art?
I too often set on fire my credulous heart
and tried to read a nonexistent story.
When my core became cold and hoary
I finished cheating myself with these air-built hopes
and got a job in the Temple of Apollo on the Delphi slopes.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

Where nobody is…

Time will turn new walls into old.
Bright colors will be covered by mold.
There are wide slipshod dabs
On grey befouled slabs.

A mural securely stores
All our dreams and hopes.
The shadows of feats and wins
In the house where nobody is…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014