The Visiting Scholar

Anton Yakovlev

My head snaps back at the sight
of unafraid geese by the river not getting killed.

You think I’m bored. Actually,
I see amputated limbs in discarded trees.

Sometimes I take out my soccer ball
and meditate on it, reminiscing about the times
I photographed famous players
before they were disappeared.

I imagine my wife’s naked body on the park benches.
I might ask you to half-undress
and will be astonished by the thought
that you’re unlikely to die in the next two weeks.

I can stare at shadows for hours.
Only black cars fascinate me.

Whenever I see my flag,
I ripple with it.