fragments (I hate loud noises)

sometimes the sunrise add an

insight and depth to the meaning of your life.

It’s about 5 am,

I am ready to fall asleep.

every morning at the same time,

the newly initiated widows

like an alarm clock,

wake up the ambulances.

they got in fight last night,

she told him “I wish you were dead”.

you can’t take your words back

if there is no one to take them back from.

at first,

still in a delirium of her sleep,

she was relieved.

it hit her in a moment…

the lucky way for unlucky men to go.

they just refuse to wake up one day.

they are protected by their “better half”:

from old age and drinking their liver away.

I want to die like a good man dies:

in my sleep, in my bed.

but I wouldn’t want the wailing of an ambulance

to disturb my morning silence at 5am,

even if it isn’t mine anymore.

I want them come later and quiet.

I hate loud noises.

 ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments(I saw him)

I saw him for the first time,

he walked over the bridge,

hands in his pockets,

eyes

over the rims of his tinted glasses, gazed at

 the river,

shivering from the wind,

 from the morning chill,

maybe from both,

maybe from pneumonia.

it was a month ago… .

I wait on the bridge every day

to meet him, to say “Hello”,

to take his eyes

away from the gray waters.

but there is only a river,

wind and chill.

if I am persistent,

one day I’ll meet pneumonia,

for certain.

 ©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (just because)

all the weight taken away

from my shoulders by this moment.

I am not me anymore,

but the bird, sitting on the branch,

breathing in my newly found birdness.

the blink of an eye and I

am not a bird either.

I am the tree, still holding the memory

of the bird on my hand. I am the roots,

entwined with the earthworms,

together, we hold my body

against the planet… . The planet I am.

heavy, cold, dark, snowy, hot, polluted

and magnificently blue from the distance.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters(the light)

the light of your words

flow, vibrate, break

my eyelids,

drink the dew

of my dream

from the springs of my eyes.

I left blind.

the coffin…

the night…

seconds,

bleeding marks…

the circle…

the face

of the clock

over the skin of my abdomen…

time counted, stolen, wasted….

gray smock rises

from the trembling tongue

of the fire

spreading over my spine.

consuming my bone marrow … .

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (I walk away.)

I don’t pull my hair piece by piece,

don’t weave a net to keep you close.

you don’t sing.  you don’t play your violin.

the bird does not inspire you anymore.

you fall asleep before my words

dry on my lips ‘good bye’…

I walk the bank of the river,

piercing through its opaque skin.

who knows what monsters

prowl on the bottom, hiding

in the sediment of pollution.

I can’t drink it, swim in it.

I can’t rest by it…

I walk away.

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters(about you.)

not everything is about you,

just a few things,

just certain things,

important things.

and life happens in between:

before I take my shower

and brush my teeth,

before I undress and dress up.

it happens when

I feel blue, tired,

walk with my head down,

cry and fall asleep

on my sofa with the tv on,

when I have yesterday’s-cold pizza

and coffee for lunch…

there are days

when you walk through the door.

there are holidays.

and other days,

when I take Tylenol

for my headache… .

©  2012 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragmentsandletters

is on Kindle as of this morning.