petersburg

words by Gillian Chapman
illustration by Sharada Mujumdar

here it comes—  

the edges of my frail mind  

falter and fade. dreadful closet walls,  dirty and mangled, sick yellow paper, turn, twist, tighten,  

swallow whole.  

through the dingy apartment esophagus  

i am thrown into the stomach of the street  suffocating summer sweat  

like swirling bile.


in the sky, the sweltering sun sighs,  

settling down for sleep. oh, this world!  

a fever seeps inside me now, rustling  

the detritus buried in the murk of my skull,  

the scum that i am.  

fitful and convulsive machinery,  

spasmodic anatomy,  

land conquered by fear.  


oh, sorry sight! napoleon on his knees,  brought down to beg. watchful eyes glimmer  along the streets, marbles shimmer  

in sunset light, piercing yellow orbs  

catlike and silent.  

ants, ants, ants! their words and whispers— criminal, knave, pariah!


the moon, all round and bright, sits plump  in the black sea like a kopeck.  

nighttime air drinks me, drains and digests  dregs of breath from convulsing lungs.  here i lie, at the assail and besiege  

of fever-filled dreams,

again in the mouth of the beast, awaiting the gnash of its teeth.


Illustration of architecture of church building in St Petersburg