After rain
the earth has forgotten
where it keeps you.
But I disturb my pocket
and retrieve a flute
from the dark hollow
I have dug with greedy fingers.
Bone-white,
for it is bone—
your bone—
that I have carved
to go deedle deedle dee.
Day to day
I sit under a tree,
its branches tangled
leaves overhanging and shielding,
and cast my voice
through this porcelain reed:
our past replaying.
Round and round
the song breathes
lives as my blown needles
scrape and leak
each spinning memory.
And yet
I wonder
will there be anyone
to play a tune
for me?
###
Born in Krasnoyarsk, Russia, Konstantin studies British & American Literature and Creative Writing at The University of Kent in Canterbury, England. He has been published by The Claremont Review, Four Ties Lit Review, AOM, and has won the ZO Magazine Silver Prize for Poetry, and is currently a Review Assistant for Newfound. His poems are Asexual/Bi-romantic and neo-modernist, which revives the Modernist innovations of subverting traditional gender authority and narrative and making the personal universal.
