S o f i j a P o p o v s k a —

shadows creep up

sliding between grass

like blades, separating green

from dappled edge

filing slices of summer noise

between cabins and changing skies

there is a man in the square who curses himself

and speaks softly to others

up the cobblestone path into chalk white

sunlight gets tangled between milestones

in the forest a sentence trails off

the world converges in this place

this crossroads a thaumatrope of crushed glass

you can see everything from up here

there is a black box with bits of the world

a whale skeleton and rabbit droppings

men with limps and accordions

women who grab you by the waist and smile

at the bottom of the stairs

amidst the lives of mosses

looking up through the glitter of fragments

now together now apart

i can see you written on vessels, in temples

on the blind end of a prayer

“i think it’s poplar fluff”

“no, it’s the dandelions”

his golden eyebrows turning red

rich with violent sun

over eyes unaccustomed to discerning

the heterogeneity of softness

a mourning dove makes his summer afternoon sound

in the slant of the sun, passers-by are vanishing ink stains

a poem in reverse

3 Card Spread

PAST: 8/cups

Stepping all over the glass of time

Playing with its nauseating angles

Lips without eyes, forests pathless disemboweled

Wordless ink, wasted

On this red translation

Museum of chance, cenotaph to

Myself, maybe

A hidden knife in someone else’s day

PRESENT: 13/major arcana

Now leaving the red translation

Mercury angels curving out of the way

of noise

Banging pots and pans

The ideal limit of poetry

From a specific angle seeing

Average tree crowns

Yellow rhomboids sliding down the parquet

Under the bed, unborn

A caterpillar of stills coming to a stop

Sad from a specific angle and invisible on average

FUTURE: 0/major arcana

What is this

Metal motion

New sinew

Stepping over names and faces

Vacuous, impatient

Forgetful

Reptile teeth: yellowed over written

With cracks that do not give

Practiced aperture

Waiting

Stepping over and up

Sliding closed

New station

Dim memory, phantom pain

Disappearing in the blur of windows

.