(photo: Diana Popescu)
1. genesis
sometimes I have no news from you
but I know our ages get ahead by a shortcut
then wait for us to catch up without looking back
people step out into the streets to find out their names
their garments shout so loudly
that they can’t hear each other
and their souls return to their chest pockets
you know I love you and the drinking bowl we share suffices:
even though it breaks into tiny pieces
water never shatters, but remains to wrap around the memory
words haven’t learned to speak,
they tug at our sleeve to draw near to the place
where time ends
as movement can’t be decomposed any further
the gates are locked
and the scream swings beneath a tongue of fire;
don’t be afraid now
God wants to be our child
2. between us it’s already dawn
my arm goes numb under your body I breathe softly
in the dim light like a compress
on last night’s table there are crumbs of life
you cry in your sleep with your back arched
as if you tried to make room for Someone else in between us
I slowly turn to see an angel
giving you to God... I want to wake you up
but silence has nested in my palms
and even though the skies begin to fill up with freckles
between us it’s already dawn
3. big crunch
when God passes by people hide
inside your heart not to go blind
a different kind of garments grow from their flesh
at the end of sight new land is born
I don’t even know when we made room one inside the other
our superposed edges warm up the grass
in which a child wipes clouds off his cheek
sometimes I have no particular thing to tell you
words cling to the light ball
that rolls faster and faster towards us
(poems published in the volume "catacombe. aici totul e viu" ("catacombs. everything is alive here"), Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2008, pp. 29-31. English translation: Simona Sumanaru.)
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