Gunshot

A hawk circles over the yard.
It flies away.
My mommy darts into the house.
She calls to tell our neighbors:
“A hawk’s flown to you”.
Maybe, they leave their house
Wearing gaudy skirts.
They clatter and clap
To make the hawk leave for fields.
I often dream about it.
I wanna examine it closely
And fire the gun.
Or 
Fire the gun
And examine it closely. 

Of Glass
You know, there is a phenomenon of the glass ceiling for working women.
But today I’ve got acquainted with the glass door idea.
I came to Hochzeit Zimmer Darmstadt.
I couldn’t get into the beautiful wedding hall.
There was a glass door.
I looked through it at splendid frescos and shimmering decorations.
In Russia they say having a good husband is like being protected by a stone wall.
I am getting to suspect that 
my wall is a glass one.
Anyway, a woman who lives in a house of glass
shouldn’t throw stones.
So be quiet, my girl,
Be quiet. 

 

Anna Aksenova is a Russian poet, translator and university lecturer. Her PhD research is devoted to time and space representation in contemporary American poetry. Now she is working as a visiting researcher at University at Buffalo under the auspices of Fulbright program.