a light a flash the hush

the child

marble paled heads out to murk in his father's arms black hands cuddle the sunburnt youthful face;

they hubbub pray in silence for the wheeze to come to threaten god to blast the gray firmament wherein angels' bodies will fold into the bloody heavens;

where the sola banner waves there is a hope to shepherd oneself from evil; far too late;

has little scent already breathed a sugary gas into the bottle, perfume, shelf, memory, ruin, the oblivion? never no;

the exhausted child intends to leave eventually;

it is gone;

as well as people have dispersed; respectfully silent;

and I leave them near the body;

where are they?

I go;

I run and cry;

the whole byzantine sob smoulders with a half-smile the blaze on the surface of the eye the inextinguishable thickened liquid; it oozes; a glimmer of the fluttering feeling for the unbreakable breathlessness of ephebos, the moralallergy incense the itch of bloat the cheekbone liquefies into the beetroot womb colour; I will slit my throat with an antihistamine blade so I can shove the stubborn swell into the tract of the crucible's soul with its handle; and the will; to cover myself with a coloured scarf in summer to seclude the square delirium of deliberately beautiful executions of hostages to morality slave; the room;

to tangle in a dead girl's hair to make a mother's pelvis hover in hips over the adult miscarriage into the world of tragically fallen like an undeveloped twin sprout; the scientists fearfully observe the pendulum as humanity may stop rotating about its own axis — in vain;

the ocean; the cyclone swayed the bed so hard that the inner tripe wave crest surged forward to the moon beast's tail of the pull; the pilgrimage of the injured pupils to the body of the lookalike who made our terra a satellite; the dance of unfortunate water masses unpreferred by fatum to bestow the life in high tide cramps foam upon the moon;

my legs are being cut down the trunk from sacred woods floats down the river to some procrustean trauma bed, downstream I am carrying the fruit tree branch falling fiery like a springing flower sunk in orange from the sunrise of the fruit to a deep sunset the cemetery of memory of blossom; I smell this stench of gashed grass from the hayfield, want to remember to enfold the moment when the forehead smelt like a copper when I saw with my own eyes the nymph's immature neck had been broken the explosion of asparagus; the aroma; infuriates the nasopharynx like seawater in the nostrils full of mucus as a disgusting drug anaesthetises the pain of hate for him but will leave me grateful after all;

I can't see animalistic beauty anymore the alb, merge into me, begone forever;

when I avengingly sink my flesh into the teeth of the enemy why does the claret mixture treacherously turn the vulva and slurpily sing the lustful dithyramb?

when you see the angry grimace can't you recognize the offended child that wants to rape the adults inspired by their natural and warm talent for the massacre?

when you tear the lard of puberty off basking in the inside out breasts haven't you noticed my pleasure in giving that to you?

cruel filth hell will get you for love torture and other crimes of yours;

before they met you, their lips didn't know the noma's kisses how can we forget the holes your love is making on our face? how to end the fantastic genes torment of having weakness for the thing below us getting them carried away? how can you not dare be tempted by legs' aextetic muscularity that charms the eros on watermelon necks of our ancestors? how not to pat somatic language the shrub entwines the withered vaginas like claviceps affects the rye before an outbreak of ergot, when the tired people grope in pants, stimulate ivy the phallus is slowly dying underneath getting rid of the white spit that is fed to the predatory fungus of the tongue? how to dampen the harpist vibration played so skilfully cut off the testicles of the creature in office as sacred cattle with the harmonic edge?

was there ever another time you didn't feel the lusts, didn't see you as us who have departed will depart are departing? — don't remember;

the only thing left for us is to be consumed by you more than it is allowed to lovers; we have to consume you like a cute puppy when its sweetness is dropped into the bitterness of the stone in the bag to the bottom of a swamped river;

we will destroy everything that makes you equal to us who can die;

we will jump into the boundless depth of the core so the earth's crust will be only your hades;

we will cut off every skin blemish that will hinder our children from having this beautiful doll's plastic in their death rattle;

if only there would be the fabulous face in a sea of spit from our mouths on a milk carton;

if only the fabulous face wouldn't wash away the blood from lips that appetizingly sink into life which becomes worth after slight touches;

my mother had the grief of having greatness so I could have the blessedness to know the oppression;

my mother has been dying for hundreds of years so I could have the grief of being born so I could have the blessedness to find the death;

Translated from ukrainian by Timur Leschenko.