Dnipro and Elsewhere – Kellan Jansen

February 1, 2026

Small bird, roast twigs of French lavender,
prepared tableside. Ramonet, Burgundy pairing.
White hairs surround—
three girls blonde and fragile,
one remains missing,
unspoken.

Country mice trap underfoot, at Dnipro, where white linen
and youth
dine endlessly.

Inside,
the spice carries gently
a tide for small birds,
soft girls, all trembling
ectoplasm in bright mouths.

Youths gather,
faces half-formed, drifting,
waitstaff or ghosts.
Pass through silver trays,
flickering candles,
reflections.

no scream
they dissolve saluting
into sauce, drizzled.

Split the glaze,
much apologizing,
but the white hairs dine as if dreaming—
consuming, serene,
each sacrifice already
arriving featherless.