Art

Two Poems – A. Molotkov

Hesitation

 

if I take the jar inside

the water will spill

but how do I know this?

 

I forgot my own future

when I became engulfed in you

so much darkness

outside your well-lit room

I remain in the dark

 

if you let me shiver at the door

and freeze to death

as the jar freezes

 

I will be

your truest love

your empty stranger

 

if you take me home

let it be my home

 

I study longing

 

silence is the sea

we glide on uninterpreted

 

I remember thinking that

before I emptied my thoughts

into you

 

we can talk about the jar

and fall asleep

before the snow starts

 

I’d suspected myself all along. I deserve the harshest punishment available to me in my paralyzed state. I hope to extinguish my every hope. Your compass leads me through my imagined life. The difference between true and false is optional. I hold the jar.

 

if I were the one who waits

I’d let you in and tell you to flee

 

you’d lose your compass

and your watch

 

if you stay

so much ice awaits

so much snow

 

if I let you shiver at the door

you will spend your last minutes

thinking of a story to tell

 

I’ll wait inside

for your memories to freeze

 

if you left your home at dawn

I’d make wrong assumptions

 

but what’s the difference

if your watch says it’s noon

and it’s

 

already midnight?

 

one more dream by your side

would release the spell

 

my empty self

my selfless struggle

 

if you tell this story

I will leave enriched

with a full jar

 

My questions are irrelevant. Still, it’s better to ask, not to answer. My hair is wet from the snow. Your image turns me into an afterthought, the wind shreds me. The streetlights are silent, the city old. The buildings are unoccupied until proven otherwise. I remain outside even when I go in. I write letters to you on a poppy blossom, on a falling leaf. I dig a mass grave for questions.

 

if your compass pointed up

and said north

you would have to float

 

if the room is dim

and the evidence buried

under layers of dust

 

my fingerprints on the jar

expect my fingers

 

if I play my part

you may play yours

 

and let the water

spill unpunished

I’ll                       be                         the                                 jar

 

if the hands of your watch

were amputated

 

I would still myself as well

 

I would keep our date

stuck in amber

 

I’d be there first

forever

 

if you listened by the door

for my final breath

 

I’d welcome you

into my private afterlife

like a verdict

 

A thought is not enough. Your absence excuses itself. I touch your hand in my memory. My memory retrieves your face. You smile. You are well-remembered. Do you really look like you? You don’t answer.

 

if I leave the jar outside

as an afterthought

you will keep your eyes closed

 

like a question

 

if the room is dim

it’s harder not to feel

the missing parts

 

missing chances

if you stayed

so much water in store for us

so little air

 

if you let me shiver at your feet

as my bloodless lips

struggle to express me

 

I will be your truest self

your perfect stranger

 

if I asked you to wait

your patience would be broken

 

I would steal your watch

break your compass

 

if your distance

is longer than your life

I will be content

in my role

 

a wrong turn

imagined by you

 

as the ice in the jar

melts before my body

thaws out

 

I take small sips from the jar. With each sip, the ending draws closer. Every absence is a presence elsewhere. I take the small boat out to sea. As the tide slides me towards the open ocean, it’s clear there will be no return. I welcome this understanding without panic. Have I known all along? Did I get out of bed so my life may end? The ocean is sad. Your ashes in the jar respect my fingers.

 

if I spent my final days

thinking of a story to tell

 

your silence

would be my reference

 

moments struggle with miles

when we thirst for time’s

best expression

 

if the jar were too heavy

to bring inside

my memory would perish

 

my love   my hopes

my tiny presence

 

would not convince you

 

I’d wait

imagining winter

 

empty

 

dreaming of a full jar

 

 

Time and Absence

 

eighteen people died as I wrote this line

may someone remember them

 

let’s count silences

let’s share absence

 

on the vast snow field

of life’s empty page

our words

are grains of sand

 

how much sand does it take

to defeat entropy?

 

and yet

we are a story

that took fourteen billion years

to write itself

 

and I wonder

about all that sand

all that snow

 

I wrap myself in a cloud

and float away

like that kiss from years ago

 

nothing bothers me

 

the silence empties itself

into the cup of your hand –

and time is useless

 

when nothing remains

I wrap myself in a cloud

and float

 

effortless

 

I’m a map

 

I’m a memory

I’m a life

 

I’m a meaning

 

have a chance

to rust

have a nice go with it

let your molecules

oxidize

release control

 

there will be more of you

more of everyone

 

let time envelop you

swallow you

 

release your atoms

exchange thoughts

with laughing water drops

 

as you acquire color

 

celebrate silence

remain cheerful

 

as you disappear

 

a melody

doesn’t exist all at once

we hear a memory

enjoy an absence

 

we pretend that the past

is a living reference

 

that the moments

comprising our lives

make sense as a whole

 

that a note ago

we were the same

 

that a song

feels our presence

 

that a chord

struck at birth

still rings true when we die

 

we believe that a melody

remembers us

 

explosions

knock the world off its feet

as if everything

is too late

 

the smell of absence

 

why do I think my eyes

are the right ones

 

no matter the distance?

 

too late to change your life

at your age?

too late for anything?

 

let’s be silent

 

can I exchange my thoughts for yours?

 

the wolves are in the kitchen

when mysteries dissolve into promises

what is left?

 

why should my voice

be the right one

 

no matter the silence?

 

let me carry your bags

through the mirror

and through history

 

until dawn

do us part

 

and then I step out of my mind

and sense the sadness

your lip twitching just so

 

that crow on my back

begins to sing

to its own definition of music

and the weight of time on my eyes

subsides

 

I stretch my arms towards you

and in the distance between

I find a mirror

in which our reflections

can laugh at themselves

 

my absence

is a ticket

for your memories

 

like a story that struggles

to complete itself

 

I remember everything you didn’t say

 

let me think of you

on each page

all at once

 

not moment by moment

 

do I need your permission

to witness you?

do you need mine?

 

we are born

remembering

 

empty moments

turn me on the corner of my being

as I stop to consider

the possibility of being absent

 

it is the absences

that slide sadly through time

as if memories

were transparent

 

let me empty myself as well

so I can pass

through the eye

of the missing needle

 

that stiches the past and the future together

in this transparent moment

 

escape slowly

like wind from a bottle

 

the word is not afraid

and neither is the light

 

if distances

are longer than we thought

you should not collapse

 

get your folded life

in line

for your birthday

 

you must match

expectations

you don’t understand

 

listen and speak

when you hear silence

 

spark if you can spark

 

let me hear you

 

when I step outside

let me be alone

 

let me be with you

 

I last saw my mother

seven years ago

at the airport

a receding figure

there…there…gone…reemerging for a second…

gone

 

in darkness

in silence

we can establish

if it is all worth it

if the past is worth the future

and vice versa

 

it’s easy to imagine

myself in her place

 

I cooked her a meal one morning

fried bologna and potatoes

she used to make me when I

was a child

and now

with mortality in mind

I replayed the gesture

 

each time we make a choice

we are closer to the moment

when we have no choices left

 

years receding

summers disappearing

without a trace

memory

the only place

she lives

 

memory

the only gift

I can give her

 

in my worst case scenario

the wolves are in the kitchen

the candle is lit

 

in my worst case scenario

we have a fight

then one of us dies

 

in my worst case scenario

I wake up

and nothing is ready for the day

 

and there is no day

 

in my worst case scenario

the freeway comes to an end

 

but you don’t notice

 

you will keep driving

for as long as I remember you

 

may your trip be long

 

drift drift

let the world imagine you

 

someone

loves you

all life long

but has no part of you

 

a memory

of silence

encyclopedia

of mysteries

 

a rainbow

of darkness

 

someone

you wanted desperately

is not in your life

 

let the world drift through you

as it chooses its stories

 

if I had access

to my body

I would dance

a slow dance

with myself

to remind me

that even shadows sleep

 

even shadows dream

 

every night

I sleep with my shadow

 

if my body inquired

“who are you?”

I would respond:

 

I remember how it was

before I had weight

 

we used to share our days

but in this afterlife

it’s harder to keep in touch

 

on my map

the past is on the left

future on the right

I must be careful

to avoid spoilers

 

the scale of my map

is subject to my mood

at each moment

 

you might have to drive twelve thousand miles

to cross an hour

 

green lines

are for living memories

red lines

for dead ones

 

large bodies of blue

for destinies being conceived

and collapsing

into their own

intentions

 

large bodies of white

for those of us

still asleep

 

missing lines

for your thoughts

 

dotted lines

for absence

 

marveling at the possibility

of gravity

I step carefully

in case my feet touch the ground

 

if this air contained oxygen

I would breathe

 

if I remembered myself

I would be less stunningly absent

 

last time we met

you were a dead body

 

a bird

out to sea

exceeds speed limit

dies for distance

 

if the sea held water

I would emerge as a dolphin

watch myself from above

as a crow

 

if I were here

I would fill the void

of my body

 

listen make me listen

to be

 

I don’t know you

let me stay

let me imagine you

from a distance

 

disappear in light

like so many fading suns

explode

in silence

 

memory in melting

death in promise

hope in melody

 

if whispers could touch your skin

I’d bathe you

in a lullaby

 

tell me all you know

in one sentence

 

I unfold the ocean

and let it spread

over the table

 

the future

doesn’t bother me

 

you are floating there

on a boat

too small to see

I become one of those

who watch you from the distance

 

let me know if the years we have

are enough for us

 

can I express absence

more vividly

than by keeping silent?

 

I fold the distance in half

and then in half again

until you’re close

 

I stay awake

while you answer

 

I close the door behind you

but I’m the one outside

 

I change my mind

there is more to say

but the brass door handle

breaks off in my hand

 

childhood cat at my feet

no longer blind

smooth shiny fur

as if time fixed what it breaks

 

my body

neatly refurbished

cured of wrinkles and small pains

 

the cat walks away

next to my younger figure

I watch them disappear

 

I don’t notice my absence

 

unlock the distance

let the wolves escape

from your kitchen

 

the word is not afraid

and neither is the light

 

let my shadow

fall upon your face

but only briefly

 

water keeps flowing

through your thoughts

like dying

unforgiven

 

is absence measured in time

or indifference?

does the crow on your back

sing for you

or those you left behind?

 

you are a witness

to some of my life

I don’t know you

but

will you kindly finish

my story?

 

unlock the silence

there are no wolves

it was just something

I said

 

the sand

the snow

I draw a few continents

on a paper napkin

and those who live there

don’t realize how flimsy their ground is

 

can you refresh all my memories

at once?

 

can everything explode

in slow motion?

 

say nothing in my mind

keep your distance

 

in my worst case scenario
I die
as I write this last word

 

whisper me into space

I want the darkness

of galaxies

to converge on me

 

list my name

in a catalog of falling stars

on a page

whose number

is unimaginable

 

I insist on being a part

of an infinite queue of digits

I demand a microscopic space

within the rain of light years

 

make me a smiling atom

hiding in a friendly molecule

 

remember me into darkness

imagine me into silence

 

 

Selections from “Time and Absence” published by 2 River View, The Neglected Ratio, Connotation Press, Unshod Quills and Verseweavers.