by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
By Maria Lipiskova Translated by Martin Zlatev It can be black and white as a poem about the women reflected in the eyeglasses moving over the flat shadows of this winter Peterburg with black shoes like scissors in which the steps entered their black hands and black gestures in the…