If you close my eyes – Evgenia Jen Baranova


If you close my eyes,

I’ll see eagles and eaglesses.

I’ll see their highland nests,

their heads, and the waltz of talons.

They feed their fledglings; they fall down like sabers.

I open my eyes –

and all of them vanish.

If you close my eyes,

I’ll see a small house.

I’ll see the four windows, the acacia, the yard, the front door.

And a basin of April, with kids bathing in it.

I open my eyes and gasp for breath –

I’m not there.

If you close my eyes,

I’ll see my dawn.

My chubby cheeks in scratches,

a heap of ribbons.

I loved you, I loved you, I love…

I open my eyes –

and my youth is forever gone.


It’s quieter inside myself –

there is a forest there and pink feathers of a parrot,

a kiss in 2007 –

such a little trifle,

but I was on the verge of tears.

Inside myself,

There is a harbor and an airport,

an unforgettable doll-house,

the aroma of currants in your mouth,

and little shoes

freshly shined with polish.

Inside myself, it’s nice and cozy–

a sailor maneuvers a matchbox;

a morning smells of old perfume;

and snowfall, and the triumph of my sledge;

and a scraped elbow – what a foolish thing.

And my old toy. It walks away to never be seen again.

I’ve got it all inside myself.

Evgenia Jen Baranova is an author from Russia. Her most recent poems have appeared in Poetry Northwest, The Raw Art Review, Persephone’s Daughters, Panoplyzine, Transcend: A Literary Magazine, and Triggerfish Critical Review.