beneath the burnt out sky

a black-clad harridan sits in the parvis
gazes into the dark sky with watery eyes
knobby yellow fingers stick out from mittens
like tilted candles on the requiem stone

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2019

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

my Ideal World

in my ideal world
it’s always five minutes to four
from coffee and smoke I am bitter
all friends were lost in Twitter
software download died
my forces only turn off the light
I slowly fall down
and soon a dawn…

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014