Dear Petrov By Susan Tepper

It is cold in these woods, I advise against it. You will be troubled by the braying noises of unseen animals that lurk in areas humans tend to vacate as the grey dusk settles. In a short while you will feel hungry, then thirsty. Your mind will travel to summers on your uncle’s estate while your back is pressed against the trunk of a cold tree. You will feel your future in the piles forming inside your rectum from the frozen ground; on which you wait, ponder. Oh dear Petrov, this would be quite unthinkable. Decrepit before your time. All because of a grand scheme over a woman twice, nearly twice your age. Much married. And two violent sons who’ve been trained for combat. Two who shall rip your fingers, Dear Petrov, from their sockets. As I’ve witnessed the plucking of stubborn fruit off trees not ready to release. Dear Petrov! Whatever could be moving across your mind? What oceans and stars, what guiding path? I fear you lost forever, once the reality absorbs. A matter of seasons! Winter shrinking your body and soul. Springtime, late to these parts, your teeth will be gone for the chewing of spring lamb. Dear Petrov. Can you not take in, just out of range, a lady of stature and yearning? Who, by her own admission, adores you out of reach. Can you not unlock the fever that thrusts a finger into your throat, choking out the breath of you: admission after admission. I will whisper a secret: The stone wall that’s falling down. Behind, you will find a crocus, maybe two. Purple. Fresh. Confused over when to disappear.

© 2014 Susan Tepper

Susan Tepper is the author of four published books of fiction and a chapbook of poetry. Her recent title ‘The Merrill Diaries’ (Pure Slush Books) is a Novel in stories. Tepper is a named-finalist in story/South Million Writers Award for 2014. www.susantepper.com

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