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.