by Nicole Yurcaba
My lover has loosened my hair from my khustka,
and he drags me to the underworld for feasting.
The Moon hunts, unaware of my disappearance.
Little does he remember, without me, blossoms wilt;
trees become skeletons; fields wither; North Wind
freezes those who dare question him.
When I return, released from my lover’s vices,
the flowers will peek from their sleep, and for a short time,
the cold will end, only for a short time, and then begin again.
Nicola Yurcaba is a Ukrainian-American poet and essayist. Her poems and essays have appeared in The Atlanta Review, The Lindenwood Review, Whiskey Island, Raven Chronicles, Appalachian Heritage, North of Oxford, and many other online and print journals. Nicole holds an MFA in Writing from Lindenwood University, is the recipient of a July 2020 Writing Residency at Gullkistan, Creative Center for the Arts in Iceland, and is a Tupelo Press June 2020 30 for 30 featured poet. Her poetry collection Triskaidekaphobia is forthcoming Black Spring Group in 2022. She teaches poetry workshops for Southern New Hampshire University and works as a career counselor for Blue Ridge Community College. On Twitter @NYurtsaba.
