Ilya Kaminsky
(USA)
We Lived Happily During the War
And when they bombed other people’s houses, we
protested
but not enough, we opposed them but not
enough. I was
in my bed, around my bed America
was falling: invisible house by invisible house by invisible house.
I took a chair outside and watched the sun.
In the sixth month
of a disastrous reign in the house of money
in the street of money in the city of money in the country of money,
our great country of money, we (forgive us)
lived happily during the war.
National Anthem
“You must speak not only of great devastation
but of women kissing in the yellow grass!”
I heard that not from a great philosopher
but from my husband, Alfonso
who could scissor-clip four skulls in thirteen minutes,
his eyes closed, reciting our National Anthem in the mirror.
“You must drink cucumber vodka and sing all night
Unite women and boys of Earth!”
He played the accordion out of tune in a country
where the only musical instrument is the door.
“You must speak not only of great devastation,”
said my barber who could not write or read
but spent his days covered in other people’s hair.
Wherein Sonya and Alfonso Drink in the Shower
I scrub and lather him like a salmon
until he spits
soapy water. “Pig” I smile—
“Alfonso you smell better than this country”
I throw his shoes
and glasses in the air,
take off his t-shirt and socks, and kneel
in honor of Sasha Petrov
who was amputated, in honor of Lesha Vatkii the taken.
I dip a glass in the bath-tub,
drink dirty water.
Soaping together—that
is sacred to me. Washing feet together.
You can fuck
anyone – but with whom can you sit in water?
I knew I had caught the boy
and he knew he had been caught.
He sings as I dry his chest & penis
“Sonya, I was a glad man with you—”
Mother Throws Milk Bottles at Soldiers
Fat Momma in a small town, queen of bullshit!
whiskey keeps her conscience clean.
On a yellow bicycle
she aims milk bottles at security checkpoints
As her bicycle hits
The soldiers’ ranks she flies
over the country like a tardy postman.
Yes, a woman who stands up
for her country
whispers: fuck soldiers, citizens, fuck them ugly and fuck them stunning.
Momma Galya Armolinskaya, 63, is having more sex than you and I
When she walks across her balcony
And the soldier “Oh” stands up
and another stands,
and the whole battalion–
We try not to look at her breasts
but they are everywhere
nipples like bullets.
Galya Armolinskaya you are the luckiest Momma in the nation!
your iron bicycle
tears with bright whiskey courage
through an advancing rank of soldiers into daylight. You pedal barefoot
wearing just shorts.
And let the law go whistle.
____________________________________________
Ilya Kaminsky was born in Odessa, former Soviet Union in 1977, and arrived to the United States in 1993, when his family was granted asylum by the American government.
Ilya is the author of Dancing In Odessa (Tupelo Press, 2004) which won the Whiting Writer’s Award, the American Academy of Arts and Letters’ Metcalf Award, the Dorset Prize, the Ruth Lilly Fellowship given annually by Poetry magazine.Dancing In Odessa was also named Best Poetry Book of the Year 2004 by ForeWord Magazine. In 2008, Kaminsky was awarded Lannan Foundation’s Literary Fellowship
Poems from his new manuscript,Deaf Republic, were awardedPoetry magazine’s Levinson Prize and the Pushcart Prize.
His anthology of 20th century poetry in translation, Ecco Anthology of International Poetry, was published by Harper Collins in March, 2010.
His poems have been translated into numerous languages and his books have been published in Holland, Russia, France, Spain. Another translation is forthcoming in China, where his poetry was awarded the Yinchuan International Poetry Prize.
Kaminsky has worked as a law clerk for San Francisco Legal Aid and the National Immigration Law Center.
Currently, he teaches English and Comparative Literature at San Diego State University.
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