In What Ways are the Living Dead

An Instant Poem

In What Ways are the Living Dead

I woke with — Remember The Radishes — on my tongue like it was some sort of chant or witch-like ward, but even repeating it in the mirror, there was only myself as a creature of storm — and a feeling of the way watermelons would burst in the bombing of Krasnodar.

At the intersection of Krasnaya Street and Mira Street in downtown Krasnodar, Russia | Photo by Ivan Konev on Unsplash