Mariya Deykute
| poetry


It was a lonely farm in Prescott for a live girl,

somewhat notorious        lewd        horse trader

a restless wire humming up her spine. Watch the hills

sink of iniquity        tavern        jail

change color, feed cows, geese, men. Every night

liquor         idlers        cards        sex

she dreamt herself a crystal chandelier, a dance fire,

gunshot wound to the side        trains        wanderlust

stairs made of gold, a piano inlaid with devil opals.

in her bedclothes        could take on fifty men        iridescent

A girl like Betsey can't keep house long.

Mariya Deykute was born in Russia, raised in Brooklyn and grew up in the UMass:Boston MFA program. She is a poet, performing artist and teacher, currently teaching literature to Navajo Nation students in New Mexico. History is important to her; as are words; as are poems; as are readers. She hopes to always write and never tire.

What I Might Have Done
The Folded Paper Game