"Histology" and other poems

by Andriy Tuzhykov

Translated from the Ukrainian by Dmytro Kyyan


the square
named after you
is made of pixels
is rendering
is in mitosis
with the square named after me
across the membrane goes
we are – the connective tissue cells 


the map of Denmark
is drawn on your earlobes
every August
we go there
together with other nomads
spend nights in tents by the autobahns
clean cauldrons with grass
speak Esperanto with the locals
happen to stay in Roma camps
or in Vikings’ 
then wander around Copenhagen for weeks
every August we again and again
go to the Baltic sea
to make sure the map on your earlobes
don’t lie


the sky fell on a mill
and everyone saves the bread
collects it in palms
in dower chests
in temples
and we make love by a fire
and for the early bread we have wine

it’s amazing                                                    
when we sharpen axes                                  
with our nails                                       
then we cut the forest                         
in the thaw                                         
and make a fire so that you could warm
your feet
and somewhere in the farm

shadows in houses
shadows of houses
sharp like rapiers
suddenly it turns out
our balconies are at the same height
above the sea level
every morning we arrange
a fencing competition
you run into my lymph
your shadow
when the sun is in its zenith


you are in a bleached straitjacket
immerse your face in this snow
like divers in shallow waters
to get rid of a panic attack

pale snow of Siberia
the same as a young moon
and young wine
wine spilled in the snow
Is it blood from the battlefield
of old wolves

Caitlyn Garcia