2 poems

Mykyta Ryzhykh

Three

Here is your scalpel
Cut it like it was before
Let the air be cut into two equal parts
Let everyone turn around and look at us

The three of them walked towards the childs
Each of them saw himself in this childs
And the old womens prayed under the apple tree

As flowers blossomed explosions
The childrens and old womens hurried to the shelter
And the three warriors remained standing at their post

They remained standing

Defense
God Jesus and your elder brother
Eternal defense

The Evening

you are angry
no
and yes
you spread your leaves and you spread your arms 
like a withered hyacinth that no lover can save 
in this world forgotten by all invented gods
like the sun wheel on the chariot of the sky your soul rolls 
along the surface of the air
you ride
you fly
and you float
like a white swan in black syrupy water
you are dying of thirst
you are dying of love
you are dying without love
all the answers and questions have already 
been put aside in a folder with a shelf life
your face has broken the mirror
the mirror has broken your face
I am waiting for your return again and for the first time 
and the air that my lungs breathe is also you
it is impossible to have nostrils and memory and not know 
that you are not my flower and never belonged to me
and what does the garden talk to itself about except loneliness
all the flower shops are already closed and the evening 
and the evening 
and the evening talk show is about to start on TV
you smell of loss and death
no you don't smell old age
you smell like everything to me