One Poem by Katerina Dementeva

conditions of life

It was cold in my accommodation in Ventspils,
So, I went to thrift myself a sweater,
But you know how it is when you need something but don't really want it.

I bought myself a gingham summer dress and two linen ribbons, pink and yellow.
I tied them to a hook on the ceiling of the living room,
I tied them to my wrists and danced around, dress swirling, ribbons looping, arms reaching,
almost suffocated myself—accidentally—twice.

dreaming is a dripping pipe
my longing, words, and drops are falling on the floor and drying up quickly
i can't make any sense
of them
and then
with opera glasses i had in my bag
i spy at visitors at the restaurant across the street
i go there to spy on my empty accommodation
the restaurant's windows are mirrors in the dark
only my face is visible
only the dark
is visible

But back to the sweater!

I bought myself a novel he House of MirthT by Edith Wharton,
read it for a bit, got anxious for main character's,
Lily, well-being, looked up the ending, said to myself
I'm not ready for that, not now, started rereading Behind a Mask,
or a Woman's Power by Louisa May Alcott, have you read it?
It's my favourite of hers, hilarious, bit dark, anxiety inducing by its tension,
protofeminist, do give it a try!
And I bought a rose, colour's irrelevant, left it at my terrace—
Clenched the fist around frozen petals in the morning,
She crunched.

no writing desk at my accommodation
meters and meters—a dominion—of cold space
so i go to the library across the street
(on my last day i'll give them my House of Mirth copy, the librarian lady will be surprised and thankful).
not enough
not enough heat but the there's a record player and a collection
of 80s vinyls. i'm rotating Helen Schneider, Tina Turner, Tracey Ullman—
her debut album is called You Broke My Heart in 17 Places, do you know it?
i love its name, brilliant, so relatable
so close

Sweater, though!

I bought myself a pack of black spider sticker tattoos, left, returned immediately and bought two more.
Back at my place, I put them on my cheeks. I was blushing spiders, so cute! My face
Amused a delivery guy, and this was nice—to see this weary man's smile.
Toppings on my pizza were shattered mussel's shells, fish skin, shrimp guts—
Actually, I'm not sure about the last two,
Was too busy bleeding on the shard.

lovely sea stroll at midnight at -12 °C
is for slipping on ice
is for risking to fall into water
is for gliding closer anyway
lovely midnight
is for laying on ice
is for watching stars, clouds
is for thinking isn't it a nice way to die?
this lovely lonely night
is for spiders and frost tickling my skin
is for for quiet
is for no

I didn't buy myself a sweater—
you know how it is when I need to do something but don't want to.

I warmed up my accommodation by turning on the oven and keeping its door open. All the glass doors to my enormous terrace were misted with steam. I pressed my palms to the glass. The rooms around me were throbbing wounds, you know

you know if

i'm a ghost my haunting is tasteful

                                                                                    stylish

                                                                                                                artistic



Katerina Dementeva is a queer and feminist writer, poetess, performance artist, and facilitator of creative writing events based in Riga, Latvia. Her work, both prose and poetry, has been published in various European independent magazines and underground zines. She has been a resident at the International Writers’ and Translators’ House in Ventspils, Latvia, Jaunpils castle, Latvia, the Women in the Mountains program in Bulgaria, and has participated in projects supported by Europeana, the European digital cultural heritage library.

https://substack.com/@kdementeva
https://www.instagram.com/katerina_dementeva_/