by Igor Satanovsky
translated by the author and Anton Yakovlev

Jewish you are,
And so am I.
You are a museum,
And so am I.

by Igor Satanovsky
self–translation from Russian

Nights turn her into the Great Bear:
The convincing big dipper of her body:
The seven shimmering chakras:
The shaggy head:

Remember: observe: get a clue:

Constellations don’t take questions:
They can only help you to navigate

* * *

he turns away: his voice changes:
well: no: it doesn’t concern me:
as for the rest of it: I go with the flow:

he enters elevator: moves up: down:
for years: would not exit:
then hears: this is your floor:

steps into a narrow basement
of locked door and moonlight
in the puddles

declares loudly:
such were the circumstances:
listens to the noise of hot water in the pipes:
gets no response

by Igor Satanovsky
self–translation from Russian

a mechanical voice speaks for two: at first sounds
deep and hoarse: I liked it before: but not now:
now I like something else: now it’s fine: the way
it should be: better: it is better: the other way:

the voice mutates: climbs in pitch: now I got it:
the face transpires the mask: the face changes
when I can’t see it: it’s hard to figure out: what
you truly think: how to see the real you: now I see:

now it’s different: the voice slides lower: yes: yes:
that’s what I am talking about: to see things: with
somebody else’s eyes: it’s great: but you must be
ready: I wasn’t: now I’ve changed: now I am ready:

and it’s all fair: thank you: love: is such a precious feeling:
and so well–armored: a metallic echo interferes: grows
louder: drowns the voice: the voice struggles to break
through at the top volume:

HONEY: LISTEN: I HEAR GREAT NEWS:
LUXURY CONDOS ARE STILL AVAILABLE
ON BRIGHTON BEACH!

by February Evening
     translated by Dana Golin

The wind — sudden, sodden — late winter’s cursive.
Earnest gusts push the passersby toward each other,
cigarette smoke leaps from the lips and instantly retracts, having
scraped
Nature’s raw nerve.  A match struck lit
by some miracle in a dark garden, and finally
the saving grace of a tea kettle hissing on the kitchen stove,
cups of tea shared between family.  The dear ones’ clothing
matches their voices — free-flowing.  Bare branches
shake and swivel, whereas the steam from the kettle
rises to the ceiling, all but
Immobile.