The Adirondack Review

Naturalized Imprints: A Pantoum


I try to consider space as object.
I sneak a glass of kefir and take a slice of sausage
I think about my borders and the emptiness of arctic
I try to remember the place of my tongue and homeland.

I sneak a glass of kefir and snip a slice of sausage
I never relied on the bad sense of rulers
I try to remember language and my homeland,
I reverberate little snips of highway ramble.

I never relied on the bad precision of rulers
I must be out of my mind with no place like home
I reverberate little snips of highway ramble
Try to convince myself I'm on an excavation trip.

I must be out of my mind with no place like home
I'd like to believe your stiff upper lip mollifies my lower
Try to convince myself I'm on an excavation trip,
A fashionable tourist, with a Parisian red flower in my ear.

I'd like to believe your stiff upper lip mollifies my lower
We rode the highest arching hills in Moscow snow time
A fashionable tourist, with a Parisian red flower in my ear,
Like Hamlet's ghost I groan the victimization of poison.

We rode the highest arching hills in Petersburg snow time
Like a snuffed doe I've begun to forget my foreground
Like Hamlet's ghost, I groan the victimization of poison,
I look forward to your stiff lower limbs to displace me.

Like a snuffed doe I've begun to forget my foreground,
I grind thin pallbearers and watercress to soothe the nerves.
I look forward to your stiff lower limb to emplace me
Like a canvass that's besotted in natural rain.

I grind thin pallbearers and watercress to suit the nerves,
I wear old scavenged cloth and large flowery prints.
Like a canvass that's besotted with natural rain,
I try on my nation, the rained imprints stick to my skin.

Wherefore I think of mother and the wheat which flowers
I think about my borders and the emptiness of arctic,
I draw the European Union on my ceiling in glow markers
I'll try to consider space as object.
The St. Lawrence Book Award for a first collection of short stories or poems
The St. Lawrence Book Award for a first collection of short stories or poems
The St. Lawrence Book Award for a first collection of short stories or poemsThe St. Lawrence Book Award for a first collection of short stories or poemsThe St. Lawrence Book Award for a first collection of short stories or poems
The St. Lawrence Book Award for a first collection of short stories or poems
JULIA ISTOMINA was born in Moscow, Russia and moved to the United States in 1990.  Her poetry has appeared in The Cortland Review, PIP Gertrude Stein Awards Anthology 2005/6, Green Integer Review, Big Bridge, Shampoo, and Ars Interpres, and her essays and reviews have been published in Rain Taxi and the forthcoming Jacket 34 and Salt Magazine.  Her first book, a "thriller in verse" has recently been picked up by Ars Interpres Book Series.  She received her MFA from The New School and currently lives in Inwood, New York.