I’m not ashamed
of inspirations, veins, and tendons of terrible snakes
I love stinking flies, heavy in copper
I love sick roses
It’s just a little thorn left on my cheek
and I have no allusions
and I have no illusions whatsoever
and I do not deserve relief
I ate a mirror from a counter of fifty young bunches
in someone’s stomach,
so my home became a little cramped.
I ate a motionless spider immortalized in cobwebs

I’m floating on a tray of a busy Belgrade street
in a deaf room
I was bent and hungry looking at the sky
from an ideal angle
behold, hands are peeling away in glass,
at an incomparable address restores faith
in the mortal covenant with innate signs

Here, my hands are quite a clear
Part of the speech on the other side of the sheet
she misspelt the right words,
he collected the blurred images
all that was spilt and collected
into one flashing point
between locks and secret places

after much effort and hard work
I managed to turn the mythical river
towards the old man from the beginning
that doesn’t get off track
he is alive, but he is away from home
whenever I pass by

You came out of yourself finally like a pigeon from a cage
and the symbolism of the tiny sparks that disappear
I collect
sometimes absent sometimes
all around with irrepressible actions
emptiness, freedom of oblivion,
successful metaphors swallowed symbols
tamed snake, the foremother of small intestines
you shine a green light like a mythical image
there are many great secrets in orientation
and I play the game I found myself in

I drag toys behind me for people to hear
a flower came out of the way to pray to the god,
a sail, red, juicy like hell on a grill
The glassmaker rolls from conviction to the throat
between the heart and the abyss
his cheek dropped, a glint in his speech
which house is burnt in flames? – I see its reflection already growing in the stone

I switched roles with the one I hunt
now it’s lurking inside and luring me inside
help squeeze my lips to miss me
close my door so my days don’t go away
toss a grenade to slow them downs
so they didn’t see us go through the mirror.

4 thoughts on “Mirror

    1. Ken,
      Thank you so much for your thoughtful note. Also, my apologies for the slow reply to you – for some reason your comment ended up in spam folder (?) It means a lot because English is not my native tongue.
      Being so and I do not intend to be intrusive – maybe you could help me regardless to that matter – editing acca if you have any ideas of how mine (new poems written) could be more easily understood in the manner of fluidity I am completely open and have been eagerly waiting for creatively intensifying its representantions effects? If youโ€™re sure this is the case of not bothering you too much , if you can help it, donโ€™t leave me in torturous suspense ๐Ÿ™‚ and would you be free for an email ‘meeting’?
      Please, let me know.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Hello Leila!
        No need for apology: I also find comments in my spam: surprisingly often.

        You have little need to worry about your poems, in English, Leila!
        They are very beautiful.
        And where your use of language is sometimes slightly unusual, that actually makes them even MORE vivid and effective.

        I try never to be critical of other writers on WordPress, and only leave positive comments, but IF I see an obvious fault, I may point it out for you.
        As I follow your work, I will be reading anything you post, from now on.

        Of course, you have my e-mail address. But I really don’t think you need “help” at all, Leila. Your talent is clear. โœจ๐ŸŒž


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