One Poem by Antonia Alexandra Klimenko

 

Heart’s Compass 

 

You pass through me 

like windows on a train-- 

freeze-framed in Winter 

my shattered Spring 

I look for you 

in all the compartments 

of my heart 

groping blindly 

at flashes of reflection 

  

(Why did you pull out? I ask 

At which stop did you finally exit?) 

  

knowing full well 

I have swallowed you 

the night before 

swallowed you 

as I have the sun    the moon 

and all the dead stars-- 

light years of your grief 

passing through me now 

  

I   the cavity of Paris 

compass without a needle-- 

my arteries stretching like roadmaps 

across the universe of my heart 

  

How I let you slip through me 

I will never know 

why 

I sent you 

to your own dark eclipse 

your delirium of narcotic bliss 

engraved on the head of a needle 

  

What is it we hold in our hands 

that slips through our fingers-- 

this human landscape of blood and tears 

How do we hold onto heart's needle 

this compass of compassion 

this shining star 

this point of reference-- 

hold onto light lost in a City of Light 

hold onto that one magnet that pulls us 

to a place where we belong 

  

One day                                                     

we may lose true North 

lose our way 

lose this moment 

lose whole continents 

of ourselves 

like refugees 

with nowhere to turn 

like I lost you 

you who once took refuge 

deep inside of me 

  

I still hold South 

between my thighs 

still wait for you to move me 

like the earth 

like this engine pumping blood 

this train pumping iron 

like Night and hydrangeas 

exploding into the ecstasy 

of novas and constellations 

tunneling the black hole of me 

the deep blossoming throat of me-- 

you   my heart's needle- 

a singing meteor 

that passes through me as light 

that hums in me like Spring-- 

the one place I cannot get to 

  

I am the cavity of Paris 

that lovers once poured into-- 

my heart a weeping sieve 

Milky Ways oozing from 

the swirling globes of my eyes and breasts-- 

the trickling cum of humanity 

peeling Time from my lips like a mask 

  

At night alone in my bed 

I marry the sacred dark of you 

I marry the souls of all your dead planets 

all the sweet amnesias of heaven 

that live inside my head 

I curse myself and heavy-lidded Night 

that slumbers through the day 

I   dragging the moon 

like my flesh behind me 

while Dark goes on and on 

like the bottomless sky 

with no ending or beginning 

  

Dark knows we are afraid of it                     

wants only to be loved 

I swallow it 

as I do my tears 

I kiss it 

like I drink in air 

I stuff the shame of guilt 

back into my horizon 

praying that light will find me 

  

I am the cavity of Paris 

that lovers once poured into-- 

my heart a weeping sieve 

Deep inside myself 

inside the shadows I cannot contain- 

statues and monuments to the dead-- 

a whole city of shimmering possibility 

rises as smoke above a skyline of ancient syllables 

quivering on the tip of my tongue 

  

The pallbearer of my own dead poems 

bereft of words   divine direction or 

a satin box to lay my aching compass 

I drift 

alone in the dark 

alone with you and the breath of Winter 

erased by a night that forgives 

Antonia Alexandra Klimenko was first introduced on the BBC and to the literary world by the legendary James Meary Tambimuttu of Poetry London–-publisher of T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, Henry Miller and Bob Dylan, to name a few.  his death, it was his friend, the late great Kathleen Raine, who took an interest in her writing and encouraged her to publish.  A nominee for the Pushcart Prize, The Best of the Net, and a former San Francisco Poetry Slam Champion, she is widely published. Her work has appeared in (among others) XXI Century World Literature (which she represents France) and Maintenant : Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art archived at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. and New York’s Museum of Modern Art. She is the recipient of two grants: one from Poets in Need, of which Michael (100 Thousand Poets for Change) Rothenberg is a co-founder; the second—the 2018 Generosity Award bestowed on her by Kathleen Spivack and Joseph Murray for her outstanding service to international writers through SpokenWord Paris where she is Writer/ Poet in Residence.  Her collected poems On the Way to Invisible is forthcoming in 2023.