Antonia Alexandra Klimenko
6 rue Cesar Franck 75015, Paris, France
Light enters me from both directions; I cannot look the other way–
my eyes—two flashing cameras—are everywhere.
Fish float on them; birds and butterflies
swim deep in their reflection. The moon flickers under their fixed lens. Now, she is two.
Memories ooze from burnt out sockets— the spears of lilies bruise
the ethereal orgasm of night. Look, there… under the shadow of my weeping pillow—
one more last dream!
The eyes of my tears never close.
The moon dances on their generous silvered glass. Now, she is two–
the dead who remember the living the living who remember the dead