Matryoshka in Odessa

By DIANE THIEL 

When I started out, it was mostly about the adventure, 
following Ivan and the firebird, heading into history
across the Black Sea, climbing the Odessa steps
through the resistance, then the suppression
which fed yet another resistance, following 
Pushkin through the tangle of fairy tales 

and into the catacombs, thinking I knew 
something about where I was headed,
the mind that kind of puzzle box.
Inside any story is always a new 
layer waiting to be uncovered.

Once we open it, we find another inside.
As a child, I called them nesting dolls.
Sometimes they could all disappear 
one into another, like secrets, 

but they could also be opened, one 
by one, until I would get to
the story at the center, 

a seed so small it was 
easy to lose, the one 

that started it all.

 

Diane Thiel’twelfth book, Questions from Outer Space, appeared from Red Hen Press in 2022. Her work is anthologized widely, most recently in Best American Poetry 2023. A Regents’ Professor at UNM, she has received PEN, NEA, and Fulbright Awards. She has traveled the world with her young family. Visit DianeThiel.net.

[Purchase Issue 25 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Matryoshka in Odessa

Related Posts

Portrait of Daniel Tobin in front of low trees

The Grave Fox

DANIEL TOBIN
No kindred of an earth, it must stalk alone, / or scavenge what the visitants leave behind. // or bird’s eggs, rabbits, the odd neighborhood / cat wandered over from some nearby home. / Its tail affects the lilt of a semaphore; its pelt // a finish of rust in sunlight.

Supermarketing

LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon? 

Red Cadillac interior.

Jesus’ Body Found Outside Ice Cream Parlor in Black Suburb 

STEFAN BINDLEY-TAYLOR
His left wrist dangled out the half-wound-down glass of a boxy brown Cadillac with red felt seats. Flies drifted in and out. He had a dip top cone in his hand. The place was famous for them. You’d think it would be melting in the heat, but the molten chocolate shell held