a vignette about two spies.
So close that she would feel her breath, Polina caught her whisper —
I felt in my eyes a sudden dilation. My lungs gasped for air.
a vignette for the death of Virginia Woolf.
But the scrambled eggs are there
Her breath smelled of cinnamon and night rain.
They are rare to come by, now that this war is all I remember ever happening.
Hush little Alexei, can you feel the fireplace?
The carriage door opened —
A Bolshevik Alphabet — visualised