The First Aerial Bombardment
The street. A woman zigzags the street.
A pause. By the greengrocery
she hesitates.
Must she buy bread? there is not – is there enough? – not enough
bread?
Must she buy bread now, or –
tomorrow? –
she hesitates.
Stares at. Stares at her phone. Her phone. Rings.
Mother. She speaks to mother: Mother!
without listening
she shouts.
Shouts
by the window of greengrocery; at the window of greengrocery
as if she is shouting at herself
in the window.
Slaps the phone.
Zigzags the street, shouting at
her invisible – i.e impossible –
Mother.
Tears. Tears at the impossibility
of forgiving
her mother. Forget
the bread.
Forget. The bread and each living thing on this green earth. Forgo it. Leave it. Alone.
That morning
it begins. The first aerial bombardment.
by Serhiy Zhadan,
from Post Road Magazine
translated from the Ukrainian by Ilya Kaminsky and Katie Farris