BOSTON, APRIL 2007

this spring’s a bolt of fear

over lost time

sweat beads on black-

skinned branches

a scattering of powder

a blue scarf blooms

I am beginning again

I step from behind the curtain

it’s spring on both continents

an a-rhythmic staccato

like a kid just jumping

spreading her knees

I am discovering how easy it is

to open yourself

so easy to swallow

the jazz of these days

Translated by Askold Melnyczuk