Cannons and Slippers


Zoya Marincheva

Originally published in The Evergreen Review Issue 123 in June, 2010.

My neighbor aroused me from sleep.
It was dark and I made myself tea.
He had chased me relentlessly through
Street collages of buildings and yards
With a cannon he blasted away,
As his wounds would close up and self-heal.
His two helpers I’d managed to fry,
Shoot to death with the power of thought.
He kept sniffing me out in the crowd
Or behind some intriguing shop windows.
And my logic of hideouts was clearly
GPS-ed in his logic of chase.
Last I glanced at him, he popped the corner
Of a small picturesque town square.
Then I said to him, Hasta la Vista,
woke up, checked out the windows, the doors,
and the view to his house, in which.
in her bed was his wife, sleeping tight
in a separate room, unaware
that her husband the traitor slips out
every night to go play Terminator.