for the lamp on the table beside your father’s favorite recliner 
& you realize: only a few years ago you would have replied  
Mamo, it’s stupid you called. Stop wasting my time. 
I’m busy & she would have said Okay. Bye bye! or hung up 
the phone without even saying Do pobacennja & now a green gecko 
appears on the balcony where you’re sitting. You ask your mother 
Mamo, what color is the lampshade & she announces Light blue. 
Remember—my living room is blue & yes, you remember it’s blue: 
sky-above-Kyiv-in-July blue & how well you know her living room 
& Kyiv’s sky & now you’re mother’s saying Nika, your father visited 
again today & you’re watching the gecko scurry at your feet & you 
pose Oh, really? How? & the gecko is staring at you & when your mother 
says The flameless candle, it lit itself you’re thinking about how, as a child, 
you found your mother ridiculous 
                                         simple 
                                         overbearing 
& now the gecko’s winking at you 
                                         turning toward the sea 
                                         scampering down the balcony wall 
& you say                        Interesting. It seems these days 
                                         he’s everywhere  
                                                                        all at once.