Saturday 29 June 2019

Larissa Shmailo

Poetry


            L a r i s s a   S h m a i l o



  Larissa Shmailo born in 1956 in New York, United States is a renowned American poet, translator, novelist, editor, and  critic 




         TERMS  OF  ALLEGIANCE


Our product needs you. Watch the silver surfaces, the waving waters, wonder why the woman is humiliating the man—hold that anxious thought. Pledge unconscious allegiance to us. The words reverberate: aim, aptitude, authority; you are not sure you can measure up. Hold that feeling of self-doubt: we will bring authenticity, balance, direction, a compass for your life. Now, buy Boson (never mind what it means, it is a solution). We are anodyne, access to numbness and a world of security; we are the antidote. Buy Allele (the sound alone is uplifting, lulling.) Buy Asana (our sharp penetrating products are as beneficial as yoga.) Watch: we offer you a bright shore, an ascendant future, halcyon nights, a champion for your battles, a compass in the fog, clarity, concord, electric force.

In your indecisive world, you are on the cusp of a decision: leap! To buy is action, affirmation, connection; the diagram of your life is finally here! We are your doctrine and domain, your emergent path to an elemental, firsthand, and entire existence. We are your focus, your formula, your fulcrum. The world is frightening and ridden with woes; you are daily subject to death by a thousand cuts. We are your lightship, your sure haven, your journey’s landing, your way through the matrix's maze, your locus, your hope.
STOP: your problems, which are legion, cannot be solved outside of the mercantile world. We control the immaterial and will share its aura if you buy. Without us, you are a zygote, small and unformed, without viability, validity, or worth. We are the membrane through which you must pass. Listen: you have problems you have never dreamed of which we alone can resolve. Buy Synergy, buy Thoughtfulness, buy it all and survive. Watch the silver surfaces, the waving water, the woman humiliating the man, and buy.


        ANNA KARENINA #METOO 


Ah, Merezhkovsky: to you I was a mare

ridden badly by a man; and because of him,
his error, I had to be destroyed. Lev, my dear:
You never gave me my own voice, you didn’t dare.
What did I talk about when I did talk, after all:
Abortion with Dolly? Every damn thing
Vronsky did, that I did better? The problem
was not that I was sexual: Men, you
count on that. The problem was that
I was smart. But sexual women must be killed;
All the books attest to that.

Merezhkovsky permeates the consciousness

of Slavic scholars, is the Anna story, still,
but I fault you most, Lev. You knew, soon
into the novel, that the problem was not one woman
and one man; it was all women, all men. You had
Vronsky climb in society, while I——damn, I even
knew more about horses than him!— I was
the scarlet woman, although our offence was the same.
Did I abandon my child? Or did a martinet bar me
from him? Ah, she holds Vronsky back! Ah,
the guilt!

Oh, there is no talking to you.

You sent me the dream
that haunted your ruling class sleep,
a peasant with an iron,
the proletarian that said, fuck you
and your landlord’s way of life.
You killed me with the railroad built for you
by them. Because you “had to.”
Where was your Resurrection then?
You repudiated Karenina, it’s true,
but you abandoned me to my fate.
Lev, I still struggle, a century and more later,
to have my story told.





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