POETRY
maxim’s I by Akbota Saudabayeva The room I am borne into is one of fairytales and frost-covered clouds, and the sky points to something that isn’t there. Sleep arrives like a blindfold and salt. The strange cymbals of sound and of hearts and diamonds; the turbulence of all things unsaid, the seas unstill.
The wind whistles past until everything is a river. It rains here even on a cloudless day. Let me start again— I miss the thoughts that I don’t have. But winter shall run off and good weather come again. Every day I sew more thread onto the tapestry of our life. For me, red. For you, the color of Friday. I want my love to stretch past the corner of your ear, where it can live
As they sing—
in your hair forever and ever until you wake to the smell of
The hero slays the chimera. She splits the set of two, she swallows
my homecoming. A light flickers on and off. I follow you until my teeth find tail.
the sword, and success, and success, and nothing. She stares towards the horizon,
When you see me tonight, please know that I look away.
blue and black and barely brown in rising, and swears she smells that same beast.
DESIGN BY JOANNA KLESZCZEWSKI, ART BY MADELEINE OH
NOVEMBER 8, 2021 TUFTS OBSERVER 13
