Michael Neary   © 2012 All Rights Reserved

Autumn Dacha—Moskovskaya Oblast’

We took the dogs out early and walked across the field
To the poplars reaching skyward in misty October light.
Gold as the leaves on the poplars
The dogs left a wake of paw prints
As they ran through mud
And the last few patches of dried-out grass.
These flashes of gold are everywhere you look.
You cried taking off toward the poplars in the distance
Another flash of gold
Your hair flying wild in all directions.
I think I felt some drops of rain
I think I heard gunshots
Duck hunters near the lake no doubt.
When I was a boy I loved hunting ducks with my father and uncles
But then something deep inside gave way
(Would I tell you this later)
And I could abide no longer those sad limp feathers in the hunting dog’s teeth
(Were there other things I would never tell you).
I stopped to tie my boot and gather for you a bouquet of fallen leaves.


Resa Alboher
Copyright © 2012  

Resa Alboher, a founding editor of St. Petersburg Review, currently lives in Moscow, Russia. Her writings have appeared in various publications including Black Heart Magazine, The Breath of Parted Lips: Voices from the Frost Place 2, the Edison Review, the Scapegoat Review, Maintenant 5, and Faggot Dinosaur.

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