Poezie

My shapeless sweetheart

with hue of stars

2 min lectură·16 noiembrie 2008

Mediu

Through your thighs the Tour Eiffel, l\'Arc de Triomphe can be seen

and the vicious crowd that trample each other as to the sky –

thus, living on big foot, alongside you I can visit the world,

follow the clouds and smell the sweat from subway on a November day,

when you choose the lower middle way

Your nose looks like the cliff I’ve climbed last summer –

so smooth that the edelweisses became round shaped;

only my fingers were bending like the flamingo birds

when pondering in the moving mirror,

and had the sensation of drowning

When I hold your warm and velvety hand I feel the invasion of the needles

that run like crazy to the hypothalamus, and return tired

to announce the exact time in the empty clock

The moments of senses’ expansion in a desert of shadows without master,

look like following your every move through instinctual yells

Your bosom… O! Your bosom, half bald, half forest, makes me

think about the evenings when we were walking near the graveyard and it was cold,

and half warm. Then I found out for the first time that the difference

between death and life is exactly of six feet under: full of soil and worms

and rusty iron pieces, and bones

Your letters smell like apple, like cigars and taste like white wine –

less like paper and expensive Chinese ink

when I open them they gather shyly on the table, whisper sweet words and then show me

an auburn leaf, a chair, a gas lamp and the window wide opened unto the sky,

and lipstick, prelude, mystery

From nowhere the eyes start to focus, to cut from you mild pieces … virgin ones,

to smell in the heels, to haul your thighs, to climb on the nose

inside of the churchyards, to revile you and then resigned

to bury you

in time

049.654

Marius Surleac. “My shapeless sweetheart.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/marius-surleac/poezie/1810464/my-shapeless-sweetheart

Comentarii (4)

Autentifica-te pentru a lasa un comentariu.