A tear mist stettled on the city
and I can’t see, I don’t write for show-off,
I’m driving on the night road of interconnections, you can’t see
point blank,
but it is audible, audible as if the stars are pouring ointments,
on the rustle.
I am one of them small, millionth.
Communication with you is nothing but needles,
but it’s dark in the car, I’m sitting lit up,
let’s say lit, but the Universe was not enough
gunpowder,
and it’s just a silhouette filled up with you
light, do not remove all the sadness from the stains,
and you can call for a long time and pull your hands into the distance.
Such a nebula over the city
illegal,
your colossus is reinforced concrete,
but the song sounds not funeral, but restless,
as if window tokens were nailed through the air to
rest,
and if there is no time, then there is neither river nor bank,
turn your head, I am parallel to you, to the fire and
time.
Anna Idelevich is a scientist by profession, Ph.D., MBA, trained in the neuroscience field at Harvard University. She writes poetry for pleasure. Her books and poetry collections include DNA of the Reversed River and Cryptopathos published by the Liberty Publishing House, NY. Anna’s poems were published by BlazeVOX, Louisville Review, Salmon Creek Journal, Bourgeon Magazine, In Parenthesis, O:J&A, Gyroscope Review among others. She hopes you will enjoy their melody, new linguistic tone, and a slight tint of an accent.
Foxglove Journal 