Into the Rain

a quiet lamb

in this cemetery of thoughts

a night that shadows

grass in black

a luring minuet

embossed on my mother’s neck

and sky…

my love,

the sky stays still

my lack of will

to lie inside this bed

of rotting roses

and the chill…

I love the chill of night at dawn

who’s killed the nightingale and why?

your lips are dry

shall I remove the stone you bear?

my love,

the sky has moved my pain

into the rain

26^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

Equinox

these cranes

dabbing the surface of my dreams

don’t know

to spread their wings

and burdened of horizon sweep

they die at my feet

shall I ever meet

his reflection in mine

this tiny memory imprisoned

in a storyline

my love,

I will send you the cranes

as a beautiful sign

should you master the wind

as they learn how to fly

my reflection in yours

shall not die

19^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

Reminiscences

the demon I love

could bend his knee

over my lips

over my hips

the angels flee

and cavalcades of sleepless clouds

pledge silence over you tonight

foresee the cradle of the dawn

so I can shun

his eyes embedded in my skin

there is no sin

to overwhelm

the birds of light

and yes, they fight

over my corpse pinned in a halo

please, do not gasp

please, do not gasp

I heard it twice

the demon I love

could bend his knee

over my lips

over my hips

but with a price

18^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

When nobody’s asking for you

the sky is bloody jealous

that you haunt from dead to dead

with a wimple in peaks of silence

dismantling the candle of light

you darken harder

on that street’s mouth

that chews us

and spits us

beyond the mother of all saints

the old heaven

forswears you

but

not me

17^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

(translated from ”Când nimeni nu te cheamă”)

Ravel

calmly,

she was washing death out of her hands

carefully

in her eyes, a splinter

cleaved her lightness into half

the miracle of resurgence was belated

she had fasted

and sheltered

for a snake-hole worthy sexton’s fist of clay

in which

humble

senile

her furrow was bargaining

on the last slice of the dawn

17^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

(translated from ”Capăt de ață”)

Wounds

the door is open

to the garden

with many dying butterflies

a floating silhouette

and sky

she trembles

she remembers death

she cannot die

to end despair

is all she needs

you cannot glance, you cannot frown

a wounded butterfly that stops

onto her gown

can someone help her

crying wolves

are distant

fading into mist

a wounded butterfly that stops

onto her wrist

11^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania

The Right Side of the Moon

there is a road I always take

so red and dark

as blood, as moon

their eyes – my home of desperate hour

and yet I find no step of you

my shadow holds the end of times

so here I am

away from light

so far away, I can’t recall

that narrow never-ending night

there is a road I always take

and someone is awaiting me

like a forever blind mistake

of nothing that will never be

so here I am

away from light

away from thunders and the storm

their lips adorn in blooms of fire

and demons linger in a choir

oh, naked as my flesh can be

and ivory as frozen steppes

I walk around and look around

and something is surrounding me

it’s you or shadows holding time

and what is time

if not an arrow

that thrusts an angel’s haze at night

you might be right

you whispered me

that I shall find my home, my home

and yet I roam

in darkest glare

“too soon”

I whisper to myself, “too soon”

and here I am

this final step

close to the right side of the moon

10^th April 2018, Constanta, Romania