by Petr Hruška

Petr Hruška

The Ukrainian woman slept curled up
like someone
who knows how to conserve space, warmth,
maybe even a dream.
Now she is sitting up again.
The spot on her face
looks like old age,
a prickling rash she’s had since childhood,
a recent outbreak of fever,
concealed lamentation.
Or just the imprint from the seat
of the international express
through an endless plain
and its tall, silent grass.

Last updated September 19, 2022