MYKYTA RYZHYKH

He

he couldn’t open his eyes
he couldn’t move
he was me if it’s not you
he dreamed about mercury
he played the music of silence
he drank sandy dead time
he rode on a black cart
he doesn’t know what’s happening
he found himself deep underground
he found himself alone
he spent his whole life alone
he was born alone
he didn’t have time to say goodbye
he wasn’t going to say goodbye
he doesn’t know anyone he could say goodbye to
he didn’t believe in anything and nothing has changed
he remembers that life is a streak of bad luck
he remembers that a person is a black square
he remembers that he doesn’t remember anything
he sleeps like he’s alive pretending to still breathe
i buried my childhood in the cemetery
today the letters fell into a notebook with the rain
hello bird take this glass on my palms
i’m ready
he’s ready

Author from Ukraine, now living in Tromsø, Norway. Nominated for Pushcart Prize 2023, 2024. Published many times in literary magazines іn Ukrainian and English: Tipton Poetry Journal, Stone Poetry Journal, Neologism Poetry Journal and many others