"Poem for Lena Constante, Itself" and "Me to the Poem At the Warehouse"

by Alina Stefanescu



Poem for Lena Constante, Itself

Your prison diary hums through me
like acorns, a pine cone, fragments 
settled in audacity, the possible  
is the quietest form of labor, 
industrious as the hermit thrush who looms
her nest through moments she needs alone. 

My world no longer reads itself 
without forcing a fulcrum of fury into the line
break, though good/bad guards exist in most
hallways, and the dungeon is there, below. 
I keep the hope of you alive 
on its walls. I copy your words 
along the wooden ledges of the kids'
bookshelf in black Sharpie. I believe
in the power of letters leaving irresistible
witness to the world. The girl who loves words 
must marry the books in her blood. 
The heart leverages silence against the needs 
of the stadium, the shadows of forgotten pietas, 
the ice of light on the tree's holy vestments, 
the bark laid on my tongue in communion.

Am I looking down on the prisoner 
when taking her wound to my lips?

The torture, itself, what you called the least
of it. Maybe the most is a route that knows 
ravage. It was your diary that taught me
to converse with my scars, those gaping 
seams on my knees, back, forehead, scalp,
the beautiful skull marked safe

The body changes to reflect its relationship
to the cell; the barred light adds dimensions
without erasing the object. Itself. 
Meet me there, on the edge of what I've done.
I wait: a dirge for what cannot die,
what waits for words in us.

 

Me to the Poem At the Warehouse

with Marina Tsvetaeva, Osip Mandelstam, and Paul Celan

Climb the hill 
of each other
staying hungry. 

You must sew your 
eyes open for this.

Candlelight makes it look
as if the hand goes numb
before the throat. 

You are the color technician
in a dream warning the woman
who was me before bleach.

The unbleached in-
side will not listen.

The opposite of ecstasy is 
automation. I feel something
has passed, something has 

shifted in the darkness
like loose dentures. The 
words lather my scalp

like a church 
who must service 
the male host first.

Climb the hill 
of each hunger
like a show trial. 

Your head is the stake 
and the shake-down.


Photo cover by Julia Dragan

Kate Tsurkan