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Susan Tepper


Meditations on dear Petrov

Set in 19th Century Russia during a time of war

There is no beginning or end.   Springtime grasses brown quickly only to be buried under snow.  An avalanche.  This cycle, dear Petrov.  Having no one.  How I do dread.  Wishing to sleep and never to reappear.  A wish without self-pity.  Over time the body grows bewildered.  Circles itself then re-circles in a mad frenzy.  Waiting to be sliced apart.  Food for another hungry animal.  When the snow melts I will go to market.   Mud roads cannot deter me.  The rubles you left hardly fill my string cachet.  I’m not complaining.  But seeking God in some order.  Stranger things are recorded, dear Petrov.  I might receive a word along the road.  A blurred vision.  It will not fill my larder.  But if it props me up.  I’ll crack the whip gently on my horse.  Clucking.  So he will know to trot faster. 


Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty-year writer. Eleven of her books are published, as well as a multitude of stories, poems, interviews, essays and opinion columns worldwide. Tepper has also written four stage plays. A new novel titled Hair of a Fallen Angel will be out in the winter.


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