Michael Croft

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by Anzhelina Polonskaya, translated by Andrew Wachtel We’re heading into autumn. They’ve doused the fires on deck. Let me serve as callow cabin boy on an endless voyage. Into the storm, the iridescent cosmos. To the savage dances of sunset. To see nothing but ocean, forget the land. And if we never make it back to our home, our loved ones, our mothers, don’t lower funeral wreaths into the waves. If the land forgets the cabin boy—that means it was bottomless autumn in the old man’s parting.