Souvenir

A Journal

"I'm going to come back to West Virginia when this is over. There's something ancient and deeply-rooted in my soul. I like to think that I have left my ghost up one of those hollows, and I'll never really be able to leave for good until I find it. And I don't want to look for it, because I might find it and have to leave".----Breece D'J Pancake, in a letter to his mother. 

Ana Prundaru

 

Reflections on a Balcony

 

If anyone asked me what my favorite souvenir

was, I would point to the plum-shaped bruise 

on my right calf. There, the wind landlocked 

its blade, waking my flesh like footsteps on 

crisp rose petals. I lived in Romania then, in

an apartment with a balcony that balanced

loneliness the size of icebergs, on its tin shoulders. 

Its madrigals branched their way through 

keyholes and punctured owls in my eyes; trapping 

them blue and shivering, the way last kisses

linger, long after pictures have faded. Barefoot 

on concrete, I was night dust, contracting 

around veined branches. Inside purring neon 

lights, we condemned the scumbag wings

of time, my balcony and I. Little silver pills, 

intersecting the sky-knit meadow, were our only 

allies against the swollen winter horizon.

 


My favorite souvenir is a traditional Japanese wishing figure called Daruma. Perched on my desk, it emanates calmness during my hectic work schedule.

 

 

 

 

 



 A translator by profession and artist at heart, Ana has contributed works to various publications, including Rio Grande Review, Cactus Heart Journal and A-Minor Magazine.