Five Poems by Anya Yasenovets

 

Everything You Are

If you were a cockroach in my kitchen, I would never step on you –

I would let you live –

And leave breadcrumbs on the floor,

And never shut my bedroom door,

Just in case you need a hug when you feel lonely;

 

But you are not a cockroach, not a mole and not a frog;

You are the haze, the mist, the fog,

The snowy mountain –

I am the skier.

 

You are the salty water that would never let me drown;

You are the sharks, the seagulls and the waves,

You are the current,

Carrying my raft to the happy shore of Bulgaria.

You are somebody’s grave.

 

You are the raindrops on my face,

You are my brother’s freckles

I hear your voice from every flower, every squiggling rat and every cockroach’

You are the ground I collapse on;

You are the wind pushing me forward.

 

Ps: This poem is written for my lovely best friend Arina. She is the most beautiful girl I know and I love her with my whole heart.

Sun Romance

When I slept on the floor,

When the water was brown,

When I couldn’t afford

Chunky tears falling down,

 

I would show off my cuts,

And my scars, and my bruises,

Force myself to make art:

Giving up was for losers.

 

I would yell at the Sun,

Spilling beers on the ground

The Sun screamed at me some.

We both screamed “I love you”

 

I was screaming “I love you”,

And the sun loved me back.

That’s how I got these bruises all over my neck

Seaside

Peace is where I don’t crave,

Where shattered glass has no sharp angles,

Where the southern wind braids my curly hair,

Where the salty waves lick my ankles.

 

Peace consumes me and lifts up high,

I breathe out new constellations –

Body boarders become undefined,

So we merge with the ocean’s patience

My Favorite Compliment

“We look so alike!”

You exclaimed, and you smiled,

Exposing your gums. I did too.

 

“The kids in my school are sometimes very mean,

But I know I am pretty

like you”

Adults

I used to hide in my room,

Or pretend to fall asleep,

While mommy stumbled, and mommy mumbled –

I would bite my cheeks.

They would sometimes bleed.

 

Mommy rarely said anything rude;

It’s the way mommy made me feel,

Like a sweaty handshake with a poisonous snake,

Like forgetting my favorite book on the train,

Like a fire drill

            (either fake or real)

 

I remember chopping the salads,

Mommy’s friends bringing gifts for New Year.

I would put my pillow over my head, try to hide in my bed,

But they laughed and they yelled,

Like the kids in daycare. I was scared.

 

I asked people why she was like that.

Now I do understand

Glass of milk in her hand,

My face sweaty and red,

Mommy’s pounding head in the morning,

the dread.

I do now understand.

Anya Yasenovets is a young New York-based writer, poet and artist. She draws inspiration from her chaotic and crazy life. Her work explores the complexity of being human: love and pain, highs and lows, sobriety and addiction. Anya’s writing is not perfect, but it’s raw, honest and vulnerable. Also Anya really enjoys eating chocolate and she is a great runner!

Inst: @vodka444breakfast