Published in Issue 1 of Heartburn Review
When my mother left, I sat down in the dirt,
Pried kopeikas from the sun-hot cobblestones,
Put them in an egg peeling with paintflowers.
After two weeks I broke the shell with my teeth,
Stuffed my pockets with grubby hands and walked
To the slanted market under a winter sun.
The coins slid easily, slick with sweat
Into the palm of a yellow-toothed woman
I told her, Mama’s eyes are green like candy
I told her, Mama is frying blini at home.
She let me touch every heart on her table and
I picked a pretty one for my mother, brought it
Back to heat on the stove while I sucked on my lie;
Mama’s eyes are green like mold.
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