"I've got a voice povybit fur, and I do not want to be stronger than all"

Vera Polozkova deservedly one of the most famous and beloved contemporary poets. Her line touch sincerity, freedom and ease of expression.

Website published a remarkable poem "Katya" and warns that it is not for the faint of heart.

Katya plow week between sleek women, to the cheekbones. On Friday evening, Kate comes to the pub and sits on the bar stool. Kate asks itself meal and two shots of whiskey fifty. Katya blacker pan around and looks like a living emery, while holding the neck as if to hang it.

Tall with an earring bartender knows his craft well and she smiles slyly. Katya in a glass of syrup, and vodka and a slice of lime and Cointreau. Not hmeleet; whiling away the inside wiring, a hole the size of all the insides.

Kate remembers how it closely, funny and crazy, when you love someone. That same time was now looking on, you are alone, as the White Bim. Lone so as not to have a drink with someone, I do all right to talk about the future and the past. Lone terrible, offensive, childish - his father's anger, empty corner.

In the glass, Katie tequila, syrup and fresh. The peritoneum coin gap. In fact, I do not want my child - so do not eat. Once you put up with all this damn stupid hubbub - then still waiting for something. What do you want - the good news and to climb the tree?

Kate imagines himself Clint Eastwood as he is.

Kate shrugs and squints in tact, adequate, if not fun. Katya arc drunk, and let it be ever so Kate x ** nya war - it is, in general, is almost intact.

Katya home a bottle of rum, just in case, and in the lining of the coat hashish plague. You, Lord, if you do not strangle - so funny.


Katya subway phone rings, jumps out of the hands of falls on the skirt. Kate sees that it is mother, but did not hear anything at all, hangs up.


Kate pushed the door, the one which says "Exit to the city." Climate pogrubel night to her. City to foam ripped open, all white, and yellow.

Fireworks with firecrackers, gunfire; next to his aunt Katya goes to the boa. Mom rings again, well then she should, "Ma, what do you want, and?».

Kate even flinch involuntarily, as if someone had knocked on with the power of the battery: "I broke my arm. It's too painful for me. Come, please, as soon as possible ».

Chalayan grows cold and dizzy. "I'll come, she'll take you." Katya eight seconds sober, she nor in one eye.

Kate thought - these are, my dear, to share. Kate scared that there is a fracture.

Mother sitting on the couch and holding ice on his hand, crying. My mother has teeth were chattering. Kate rushes around the apartment like a whip over it will wear. First on the door and ringing in twenty five minutes. Something pricks, it does not work, the life of me. The heart beats in Kata, like a trapped sparrow.

Night in Moscow injury all prosperity but peace. The guy with a broken nose but shoferyuga a twisted foot. Heavy brought, a brawl in a bar, five blades. Along each wall has a pair of pokotsali, but of the living.

There are nurse frowns of darkness and back into the mist. Rags, from the blood of brown, crumpled in a corner.

Silent Tajik leads dirty mop, a man lies on a gurney, dreams. Mom was crying out in pain and wails.

Loose bychara in shorts, terrible as Commander of the operating breaking into the corridor. He sits down on the bench, and the blood flows from it, as sweat in July. Kolyano ask others to call him at Yule.

Otherwise, he sutured do not go.

That's because a fucking idiot.

Mark pulled him back, and he had them throw right and left, an infection. The doctor says - but what I do, it's great to me three times. Around him, the nurses and doctors loom.

My mother was crying.

Thick entire cutting like a sieve. Mom sobs: "For what I do, for what?" I had to take my mother to the CITO. Come running, nod, run away again.

Kate wants to sleep.

The dark oriental boy cast, beautiful, bandaged his shoulder. Hand lulls like a son, and someone's drunken woman jumping like grasshoppers.

Katya sack sitting on the couch, fingers tapping on the jacket.

By five in the morning sleepy Aibolit imposes splints, draws help and gives valuable guidance. Mother stops crying. Plastered right up to the shoulder and on the other hand large. Mom looks like an action movie in mudatskom.

Kate goes home in a taxi, jaws clenched grinding. She does not feel sorry for either mother or thick or herself.


"I'm tired robot leaky tank. You have to be a hero, and I'm a wimp. I sat voice povybit fur, and I do not want to be the strongest of all. Not a fighter, is not equipped with claws. I am a simple woman, the wife of the draw ».

Mom walks in splints, roaring over the mug, which is hard to take. Would anyone ever - the housekeeper or in-law.


And the Lord thought, "Something Katka my bad. Make a dry, everything is deaf. Though there Katka my dashing, but there is no large for her sin.

I'm not a lottery to give iPods or where the LCD monitor. Even here man - the day the fire will not find a good man for her. But I'm not a sadist to forever plowing her way as mortar. Katherine, my not stupid. She understands ».

Kate wakes up, the sun fills the room, it soars like a balloon. Katya suddenly knows that if you want to be happy - it's time to be. Kate knows that her and her mother - the same live thread. The fact that she is getting older, can not be corrected - but to take, think it over and apologize. A few weeks later my mother again at the doctor notes splints srezhut it with both hands. Kate gets at your own boss, a couple of hours to the south takes tickets.

... Katia is from twelve to six, listening to the surf ran up on the rocks - and ran. Katya one thumb in his sweaty handfuls, and now he suddenly opened his fist. Kate looks at the South, splashing in the blue and blue, looking at sunsets, and on fire. Katya slowly stroking the head razbintovannaya mother's hand.

Kate thinks - I'm probably not the only one, why do I need something else.

Where it was so terrible, suddenly sets in perfect silence.

Author: Vera Polozkova

Photos in the preview: TJ Drysdale

A few poems:

"We have to live by the sea, Mother»

Children's poem by Vera skid

"Try to eat at least one apple»

via www.adme.ru/tvorchestvo-pisateli/poprobuj-sest-hot-odno-yabloko-870110/


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