These are the days when nothing
stays long in our blood. Our hopesare red rivers that run
into the heart
and die there.Forgive me if I
wave even if you’re gone. In
our bodiesmore is hidden than found. What light
defines this afternoon over the fieldsand your eyes?
Tree rings; crow
feet. Redrivers’ ending. Inside
and outside, vast
distances lie,unexplored; a single life. The period
after this sentence isa landmine.
Copyright © 2018 by A. Molotkov
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission
Born in Russia, A. Molotkov moved to the US in 1990 and switched to writing in English in 1993. His poetry collection, The Catalog of Broken Things, is just out from Airlie Press. Published by Kenyon, Iowa, Cincinnati, Massachusetts, Atlanta, and Tampa Reviews, among other places, Molotkov has won various fiction and poetry contests and a 2015 Oregon Literary Fellowship. His translation of a Chekhov story was included by Knopf in their Everyman Series. He coedits The Inflectionist Review. AMolotkov.com.
Seneca Review, founded in 1970 by James Crenner and Ira Sadoff, is published twice yearly, spring and fall, by Hobart and William Smith Colleges Press.
Distributed internationally, the magazine’s emphasis is poetry, and the editors have a special interest in translations of contemporary poetry from around the world. Publisher of numerous laureates and award-winning poets, including Seamus Heaney, Rita Dove, Jorie Graham, Yusef Komunyakaa, Lisel Mueller, Wislawa Szymborska, Charles Simic, W.S. Merwin, and Eavan Boland, Seneca Review also consistently publishes emerging writers and is always open to new, innovative work.