Portraits

Angelina Stamenova Mednikova

Twenty years ago,
when men would turn to look at you
(and that still matters).

Drinking tea by the radiator
in the theatre director’s attic flat.

Waiting for the phone to ring,
smiling with narrowed
unseeing eyes.

Long sober
and lately drunk.

Green tea
with a brown sugar cube.

Before the vodka.
When is before the vodka?

You haven’t a tear to spare for the hat.
I’ll tell you about it soon.

Even though you’ll reproach me,
saying you don’t remember it well.

Crossed knees.
An exquisite phrase,
frozen on the radiator.

In the goggle-eyed television
a reflection of the afternoon,
standing beside you.