Irreligious

Irreligious

-Svetlana Yefimenko

I know why you followed me.
Addict. Nomad.  Artist.  Thief.
Oh, how you could talk!
Leaning your muddy boots
Against a sinking gravestone,
Hard, brown arms embracing
A frightened horse’s lowered head,
Tilting orange tips of cigarettes
Toward the antithesis
Of power and of nature,
You explained everything:
Out there, the wonder of finding out.
In here, a woman’s plantlike nature.

But plants have ghosts, too.
I’ve seen the jealous, anxious gardens
Possessed by the bright memory
Of a flame-blue flower
Burning open when the sleeve
Of a monk’s white tunic
Skimmed against its’ narrow stem
In reverence.
Or in passing.

Because

Because

Broken

Broken