Natalia Antonova

Variation on James Fenton

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Dubai, The little bit of Dubai in our view. There’s that tower scraping heaven And the men tighten the saddles And I’m in Dubai with you.

I need shade, I need nutritious breakfast, I need to feel the earth underneath my feet and not have it sink away like so much sand. I need to figure out where home is, and whether it exists at all, and whether its existence matters. I need to stop tearing myself apart along the fault-lines.Continue reading “I need my fluids”

In Dubai

I’ve never experienced a mall food court that was quite as delicious or quite as ridiculous. I’ve never been so hot. I’ve never been so confused, so afraid, so miserable, or so in love.

We walked home under the pear-trees

Listening to “Let It Be” on the mobile’s built-in MP3 player and singing along, off-key, as always. I lit candles for all the men in my life tonight, and those candles stood in front of my eyes, thin, organic, skeletal. The candles are like fingers – like Earth grasping Heaven. And under my window, boys areContinue reading “We walked home under the pear-trees”

Boy With Berries, Girl With Gun

Who was the enemy? What past wrong was she seeking to avenge? Where was her battlefield? Not in any one place. It was in the air all around, it was in the texture of the world itself; or it was somewhere visible, it was in among the neurons, the tiny incandescent fires of the brainContinue reading “Boy With Berries, Girl With Gun”