Death Is a Simple Thing

--Dmitry Blizniuk

Here, in the countryside, death is simple and unpretentious.

It goes without makeup, and

a chipped log rattles

under a dented axe.

This low, big-boned tree stump

(be careful, watch your step)

is a guillotine for chickens.

Feathers and down are stuck in the notches in the wood,

like last unlit cigarettes before execution,

or unsent letters to beloved ones…

And autumn birches pose nude around the house:

armfuls of freckles are thrown up to the clouds

and hang there,

on the long, equine face of October.