Ubiquitous Quietude / Overture by Peycho Kanev

Ubiquitous Quietude 

Go quietly or you will disturb the dead. 

The mist is so thick here, like a white 

bushy beard. 

 

Famine is a woman with fragile bones  

that cries at night, asking over and over, 

“Where is your God now?” 

 

The shovels are muddy, the ditch is dug. 

A turtle passes the cemetery, reminding us  

that he will outlive us all. 

Go quietly…  

 

 

 

Overture 

 

A small old woman 

dressed in black, 

alone in a room somewhere. 

It is not that it’s dark everywhere, 

but the light that is missing. 

If her soul asks how far is 

freedom, 

it will be told:  

on the other side of town where everyone is asleep, 

where all the clocks have been eaten. 

 

   And it is getting darker. 

On the mantelpiece there’s an old photo 

and a ragged doll locked in a cage.  

 

Peycho Kanev is the author of 10 poetry collections and three chapbooks, published in the USA and Europe. His poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Rattle, Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Hawaii Review, Barrow Street, Sheepshead Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review, Sierra Nevada Review and many others. His new book of poetry titled A Fake Memoir was published in 2022 by Cyberwit.