I scrub and lather him like a salmon until he spits soapy water. "Pig" I smile— This man smells better than his country I throw his shoes and glasses in the air, take off his t-shirt and socks, and kneel in honor of Sasha Petrov who was amputated, in honor of Lesha Vatkii the taken. I dip a glass in a
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To your voice, a mysterious virtue, to the 53 bones of one foot, the four dimensions of breathing, to pine, redwood, sworn-fern, peppermint, to hyacinth and bluebell lily, to the train conductor’s donkey on a rope, to smells of lemons, a boy pissing splendidly against the trees. Bless each thing on earth until it sickens, until each ungovernable heart admits: “I confused myself and yet I loved—and what I loved I forgot, what I forgot brought glory to my travels, to you I traveled as close as I dared, Lord.”
Born on April 18, 1977, Ilya Kaminsky was raised in Odessa, Ukraine, the former Soviet Union. At age four, he lost most of his hearing after a misdiagnosis. He arrived in the United States in 1993, when his family was granted asylum by the American government. He earned his BA from Georgetown University, and went on to receive his JD from the University of California, Hastings College of Law.