In my Prada purse, I carry my heavy medical textbook
I carry an extra tube of my MAC lipstick in Russian Red
I carry a comb
My ID
A clear nail polish topcoat
And a bottle of eye drops that I avoid using because it makes my mascara run.

In my wholesome home, I have glossy tiled bathrooms
Pristine, crisp, snow white curtains
Organic, citrus scented cleansers
Granite counter tops
And large mahogany desks.

In my hollow heart I cradle my worries of a straying spouse,
My anger towards the anonymous administrator
My notions of a sneaky baba
My choking OCD
My crippling debt to a vile man
And the breaking weight of having to shield my children from all that goes on behind locked doors.

He texts me in another language
One I am familiar in
My heart feels at home
He doesn't need an invitation into my life
He signed up before
And knows he belongs
He makes me feel loved
My presence is to him, a caressing breeze
Playful, and light
I speak to him in tongues of  love
Wishing you hadn't forgotten to speak it too
He can never replace you
But I will let him in
And he will do his best to fill the gaps you left in my language

маленькая сестра , маленькая сестра , почему ты спрячься подальше ?
Ты красивая. Вы золото .
Не Поверите ли вы его и сделать как ваш сказал ?
Он говорит вам правду , но вы не поверили ему . Подумайте, он бьющий ложь , что привело вас без причины.
Он говорит вам правду , ты прекрасна , ты принадлежишь в своей постели .
Вы больше, чем просто тело к нему , ты его сердце и место для отдыха его усталую голову .

A filthy rich Russian kid named Anna,
an oligarch's scion, searching for manna,
she struts around in a skimpy dress,
doting dad's private jet, is her address,
On earth, vrooming sports cars gives her Nirvana

there once was a man who could run at break-neck pace

he could even fly through time and space

he was so sneaky he was invisible on radar

his name was captain pronin, superstar

resuming vogon poetry
altering website logos
pretending everyone cares
playing "east hastings"
asphyxiating well-nigh denouement
depicting twitter status
obfuscating coincident deletions

translating from Sḵwx̱wú7mesh
assuring Sḵwx̱wú7mesh exists
painting skwiḵw's mother?
decrying micropolitical maelstrom
imbibing fireball fountain
inundating lexical foofaraw

crafting poetic wonders
desiring other mediums
remaining practically invisible
ending internet-only depression

drafting noetic blunders
requesting astute clique
blazing perilous trail
aging ominous grisaille

depicting kmart realism
seeking darker groups
increasing pre-weekend laughter
appropriating communist symbols

making lone chuckle
offending worldwide communists
colonizing hello poetry
colonizing parallel universe

relaxing e-migration policies
пить чистую водку
photographing abduction scene
¿losing consistent format?

increasing bluebird insignia
avoiding frivolous legalities
striking astraphobic comments
assuming near-universal automation

lowering latent inhibition
traversing oneiric plane
laxwadding afebrile loodies
wallscaping pitchsourced chthonicities
closing one-star conveniences
sharing alien-looking alphabet
writing system downtimes

My eyes to Slava my seamstress say,

"I'm begging you,
sew me a new skin
here
in your living room
to hold me together now
because I can't seem to anymore...

Dear Slava,
I know you know,
how the thoughts inside me
are crazed,
you've known my childhood days &
it's not me here.
Who's this dead thing in the living room?

I feel the bones inside me,
they're too loose.
You see me falling apart,
these eyes of mine the noose.
Catch me dear friend,
from myself!
I'm begging you,
change this stitch in time
for me?

Jade sauna
just over body temperature
to increase metabolism
smooth blood flow
and sweat out toxins
my hair is up
there are no lines on my pale smooth face
I'm happy and peaceful
I look so serene
and so skinny
"'scuse me you speak Russian?"
it's one of the cute foreigners
I've had my eye on
flirtations ensued
and it was nice
to be looked at
with fascination
with cute wonder
getting complimented
through broken english
as he ran his hands through his hair
smiling abashedly
trying to make sense of my words
as I did the same for his--
we were up all night talking
"no halloween in Russia,
but if had, you be Queen"
he knew nothing of me
just this peaceful calm side
that smiled and giggled
and carried a conversation
like a feather on the wind
he saw a girl he could smile at
and say
"you are very beautiful"
"you have lovely smile"
I'll never see him again in my life
but what a wonderful memory to have of someone
nothing but kind words
and laughter
and peace
serenity
a few of the things
I treasure most,
yes,
what a lovely memory
of Annex the smiling Russian boy
who drank tea with me
at the Jeju Spa
until the sun rose
and the lights came back on.

it hasn't even happened yet and I feel the weight of your absence pressing on my chest

I've never been one for attachment and now I understand why

because to care too deeply is the emotional equivalent of Russian roulette

but this time they are all filled with bullets

and I seem to be winning this round