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   Vicky Reuter


 Vicky Reuter is a true Montrealer by way of Moscow, Sofia, Jekyll Island, and the Florida Keys. She situates herself quite comfortably in-between genres, countries, languages and sexual orientations.  Her translations have appeared in many European anthologies, journals, and magazines. Her stories and poems have seen the light of publication in Georgia, Vermont, New York, and Montreal. Vicky is presently working on her first novel inspired by Roberto Bolano's Antwerp.

Punctuation Therapy


My Moscow           Stalin’s baroque apartment block           dark hallways dot dot dot 

I am a child I’m nine I’m coming home from school past the three huge garbage bins

a semi-colon of my day   rats  huge rats are everywhere around the dump  I’m scared

                                 The elevator’s trapped in its old cage

            a wounded lift    a maimed spittoon

                                a cabin caught in broken quotation marks

           where strangers piss on the caricature

           of Marx or Lenin to watch the drops of urine

           roll down their cheeks

                                                                             It’s dark

The light bulbs saw their natural end

fly up the dark stairs                 grey dirty hyphens            a long and scary escape

then on the second floor    a casket   no   it’s just a lid   upright by the door

stands like an exclamation mark              the casket’s now stuffed inside

who died there on the second                                  I thought they were all young

a Russian funeral begins at home            a casket on the table in the room

like the last meal

it lasts one whole day and night

    Dark

Shock

Stop

Run

quick up the stairs                          to the third and magic floor                  Apt 76

I am nineteen                I’m making out              between the second and the third

the windowsill is w- i -d -e          the radiator’s hot

his hands are questions marks

I’m holding on to brackets          no more sex

Shock

Stop

Run  

quick up the stairs to my third and magic floor   Apt 76

 

I’m twenty nine   slash pregnant just a little

the elevator out of order    my body out of whack

I’m carrying                       grocery bags my mother asked for something sweet

shit I forgot about it    the hormones playing tricks

Mom 73

her age will never match  Apt 76

she’s sick but I don’t know it yet 

                                                                                        this story is full of holes  

                                                                                            so let the holes holler 

                                                                                                     from dot to dot

 

my baby is four months        she’s staying home on the third and magic floor

I’m dashing down the stairs out the door into a rickety decrepit van

off to the morgue to pick my mother up

I am an orphan now     parenthesis     parentless     unprotected     I’m next

and now I am holding onto something I’ve always feared to touch

let it be period                            enough of commas

the van is grey      the traffic light is amber    bumps

a black cat crossed the road no-no the cat was grey ok

the coffin jumps and I hold my mother’s frozen legs down with one hand

my other hand is holding the pine lid                   I have a splinter in my thumb

how dumb how clumsy how insane

quotation     marks     we’re almost there mama     it’ll be alright     you’ll see

I’m going to hold you tight

let go of me

a crowd of your friends       the Donskoi Cemetery a crematorium smack in the middle of

Moscow                         downtown                       cathedral of apostrophe and dot dot dot

three little clouds of smoke above the chimney are flights of stairs to our third and magic floor