”Generally people meet you, get to know you and then, eventually, they start to love you. Father Theophilus wasn’t like that. He loved you first.”
Fr. Răzvan Ionescu
we write our story in chalk on the asphalt
from the end to the beginning as proper for strangers
used to the signs that lose their adherence
we improvise here and there: I glue your eyelids shut with light
so you could steal me from darkness just by opening your eyes
with the eloquence of an unmapped language
then I take cover under a piece of wood while you launch towards me
dwarf suns and octopuses from the ellada nebula
your slight anorthopia has me suspended in a ramonage
between life and death – two vertical walls the proper distance apart
for me to catch my breath on an X-shaped cross
(poem published in the volume "catacombe. aici totul e viu" ("catacombs. everything is alive here"), Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2008, p. 76. English translation: Simona Sumanaru.)
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