1. remember
I sit alone in one corner of the big cold hall,
a wing entangled in the web of a moan with thin dreams.
Words lit into the steam of palms covering the mouth
slide onto the half-shadowed, slightly unglued poster,
then turn towards me with the certainty of a blind man
climbing up the massive echo in flick-flacks. The dawn snoozing on ropes
hides in its tiny wooden fists the water between goblets.
The steps towards you have become longer
since the sky hid among our traces.
2. head of a child
all that happens has a sharpness to it: the stones, the night, and especially the thread stuck into the unbuttoned wounds like an old coat you can’t let go of
even when it starts to crowd in on your shadow
you playfully tear my buttons up, depose them into my palm when you leave;
I throw them back, you catch them
and hang them on the little solitary Christmas tree
hand in hand we step out into the cold beneath nests with snowy eyelashes
you are one letter ahead, our secret signal
until the world flutters in between us like the head of a child
3. syzygy
there is no alibi in the eyes of a mute child/ beauty is silent/
the amber hidden inside the gap between soul and body aches
when the triangular sun tugs at the edges of our beings
we stand in line for two changes of clothes
from which we erupt from time to time/ towards those who touchlessly cross our prayer. we lean on light.
we are here/ right here/ right here/ at the threshold/ surrounding our circumsized death/
humbly waiting. that’s all. beyond shares there are only the image
and the standing face-to-face. all we left behind heals from us.
(poems published in the volume "catacombe. aici totul e viu" ("catacombs. everything is alive here"), Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2008, pp. 27-28. English translation: Simona Sumanaru.)
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