Dmitry Strotsev Translated by Ian Probstein
Beehive
.no not a beehive but a prison
we know there’s a new group by the barking of sheepdogs
.they are run through the underground labyrinth through the prison tunnels
.run shoes with no laces pants with no belts
run free hand behind the back
.doors clunking they are in potbelly now
.they run in from eight till eight batch after batch
belongings in front dusk till dawn do as I say
all move to the right from monday to tuesday eyes on the wall do as I say
.ear-cell tuned by a sheepdog to sorrow
.body of prisoners procession of cross
.no not the walls but a church
not the gilded domes icon-domes but the people
.not the fences but a prison
.body of prisoners procession of cross
.not the corridors or bunk beds shitters-mattresses
people
.body
torn between cells thrown between cages
in piles in unceasing light in the non-evening
.sticking out elbows scraped knees
bleeding wrists
.screaming slashed sides
.body of Christ
Lord Your people
.no not a prison but a beehive
.where we would meet Uruchie and Shabany
how we would embrace each other Lebiahzie
if only we could find a way to share clothes Sukharevo and Almaty
.do you hear we went out to march in our neighborhood had a good walk wanted to stand some more in a line by a supermarket
.body of Christ
.we finished a film drank to it in a flophouse got on the side of the road with a flag waived to cars
.body of Christ
.me I just went out to buy matches they waited for me at the entrance
.guys i’m a tech bro citizen of Kazakhstan left our office did not reach the subway
.body of Christ
.we just stepped out of a window outsmarted the guards across the railroad ran to get to our own people from college
.further
almost the same path
.Lord Your people
.time you aren’t here
chow arrives .time no
.walk time
no
shower .time no
.no
.lights out time
no
.time severed with a clunk
by a state-owned door
as a guillotine
.Lord Your people
women sang in a prison cell
batshit crazy batshit belorussians Almighty God in a prison cell
listen to heart
.no not a prison but a church
.voice from the potbelly
of Leviathan
.daughters batshit crazy mothers
.between Okrestina
.face the wall do as I say belongings in front
.and Zhodino
we stood there shoulder to shoulder
.sisters batshit crazy belorussian
.body of prisoners procession of cross
.no not a uterus but a prison
.i was inside a woman
inside a motherly cavity
.and I was in prison
in a satanic cell
.in a cement cube in an acid retort
edges and canes corners and pipes
.mercy you aren’t here
chow arrives .mercy no
.walk mercy
no
shower .mercy no
.no
.lights out mercy
no
.mercy is severed by clunking
state-owned door
like a guillotine
.when they sang in a prison cell
Almighty God i was not in a cell
I was free in Your embrace
echo-cell intrudes on a miracle as a sheepdog
.no not a prison but a uterus
.later like children
long live Be-la-rus
we bang on walls we thump on pipes
long live Be-la-rus
.church body of Christ
wasps fly in they take away mattresses
they lock us in solitary
.that’s it denser and denser the bees
.but more and more often sing the belorussians
Almighty God Your people
.the cement base of Leviathan shaketh
.no not a prison but a church
.no not a prison but a uterus
.no not a prison but a beehive
.body of Christ
Lord Your people
November 13, 2020–April 4, 2021