by Margaryta Golovchenko


did you miss me

Little can be said of chandeliers and scorpion pinchers
apart from the way they bite into skin with
a paint-like dryness. One you imbue willingly from desperation,
the other a desperation breathed into life.
Decide which on your own. When certain polish the arm
just below the elbow, in the hollow where coffee stains
end up through application, not accident.

enough to drink

There are a lot of mirrors.
Unless the form is duplicated and then repressed from
different angles do not try to find the original.
Too much has been written on the division of soul
and squares of chocolate bars,
both a delightful pink.

or drink enough

Preparedness is gift and curse depending
on the material. Winter divided among the whitest of porcelain
along the kitchen wall is good, a bra strap captured
by the bedroom’s frame excusable. War comes in springtime
with the blooming of cherries. Until then the pots
lie hungry in wait, content with the paintbrush sleepwalking.

to miss me

Coping with insomnia is done best by cutting up
stars, first with knife then thorn. A crossing of blades
for a modern coat of arms across the wrist
to remind that this is where the galaxy sleeps. Held up
to the light sunbeams break out in dance.
Only when bathed
in a fountain of a sleeping cobbled city will they sing
of mistakes they turned into decisions.


Margaryta Golovchenko | @Margaryta505

Margaryta is completing her BA in Art History and Literature & Critical Theory at the University of Toronto, and edits for the journal The Spectatorial. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks: Miso Mermaid (words(on)pages press, 2016) and Pastries and Other Things History Has Tried to Choke Us With (forthcoming this summer from Dancing Girl Press). She loves hedgehogs, tea and getting wonderfully lost, both physically and in books. You can follow her (mis)adventures on Twitter @Margaryta505.

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