i :says Marina: am a refugee-person

juvenile sea of shame of a war of blame

attacking the body of the sleeping city

i’m a hare in a circus in a khorovod

dancing on my sole remaining leg

do you hear how time’s floorboards creak

my lost paws cross themselves

at the root out of sequence

i :continues she/it: am a hell-person

night drilled a pupil in my eyes

i stand on the world’s scales

and swing alienable proofs

the act of violence began so long ago

that shoots rose from its every motion

i :it insists: am the swollen pit

in the mouth of a flaming grape

the planned deflowering of glands

i don’t recognize the speaker, but animals

with an abundance of tongues once roamed these voids

and walked about trapped in a warped cone of light

and now the doors of the grass are closing

the thin film of brightness flies backwards

i find myself in the belly of an unending road

here mercury flatware gleams beneath each border

and it smells treacherously of the scorched sugar of home

and like a candle my cooling trail burns in the snow