January 2024
Bio Note: I was born in the Soviet Union and came to the US as a refugee at the age of 16. I have a bachelor’s degree in Electrical engineering and Computer Science from Princeton University and a Ph. D. in Statistics from Cornell University. I am a student in the Fairleigh Dickinson University MFA in Creative Writing program. My essay "Kinship Closer Than Kin: Translating Russian-Language Poetry Of Witness" was just published in The Los Angeles Review.
The Dog Stoltz Cannot Stay Here Either, Sorry.
I cannot accommodate another animal now, please understand. “The Dog Stoltz” by August Kleinzahler The cat has taken to scratching the bookcase. The veterinary shrink interprets: I’ve been spending too much time at home. Pom-pom feels suffocated by this ongoing encroachment on her personal space. See that bird-feeder in the back yard? Emptied! Not a single cardinal had a go. The squirrels breach each new defense. They flaunt their aerial skill, ever more brazen. The guppies, the guppies, the guppies! Fratricide, scale rot, accidental or suicidal jumping out of the tank. Just this month: two guilt-inducing, goggle-eyed deaths on the living room floor. And then there are the daily Pegasus chores: feeding, watering, exercising the beast, mucking his stall. His wings are molting again — feathers strewn everywhere. Dud quills. No lift.
Breaking Trail
Struggling through the exile of winter, longing for spring, words break trail, breathe in the sharp crystals of fear, lose their way in the blankness, read the constellations, press on. Snow, wind, sunshine, ice. Daylight lengthens. A burst of clamor— wild geese glide to the melting pond.
Escape Route
Even now, yes, even now escape is possible. Search underneath the senses, feel the floor of perception— the hidden trapdoor is there. Pry it open, heave it up on its rasping hinges. Roll up, become a ball of lead— solid, pulled down by dullness. Plunge yourself in, allow the water to close over you. Sink through the gradations of the thickening shadows. Let go of all that has been visible. Feel the weight of the ocean press you to the bottom. Smell the iodine fear, taste the salt of loss. Stay at rest. Move just when you are moved. Drift with the currents. Gather emptiness into yourself— hollow into a shimmering bubble. Push through the cool resistance. Rise! Rise!
©2024 Yana Kane
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