Lady Leaf

Gravely hospitalized, money’s laughter
the doctors’ faces show, life form unseen,
set in – the beauty did not stop at her
and now, more highly, wins the machine.
She’s looking at a bunch of white worry
tied with yellow stripes; all are energetic
for prime suction day and night, relentlessly
immersed in a huge mass of fabric.
With a picture, she strives to have a clue,
in tally to the machine that swallows
to take the leaves, to suck them, to chew,
then disfigures them somewhere in that shows.
While she cries out, she’s printed black chalk gloved,
but she now fathoms that the Lady Leaf
had her presence at a signed meeting shoved.
On the other hand, her leaves count is chief
with key feat, her idea lights like a match,
she breaks the whole thing and each thing from scratch.


“A Poem of a Crocodile” 

Satire is a defense of the intelligent from the primitivism of the dumb. “Crodocile” is a poem which could be part of elementary school textbooks. It has a merry Ionian scale rhythm, I kept hearing the piano while reading it, occasionally trying to imagine it accompanied by sounds of acoustic guitars and, as a throwback to my childhood, the voice of Branko Kockica. Also, the poem, especially in its final verses, can of course be – though this is optional, of course – a reference to, as it is now popular and not all too politically correct to say, the influx of refugees, or rather migrants, into Europe. But this is not the end of it: “Crocodile” is also a poem of protest, engaged literature, a reflection of the author’s social consciousness and her view of society and the system, both here and in other parts of the globe. Still, she has a specific deal with the Crocodile, and she herself, as the verse puts it, is a Crocophile, meaning she knows all about the Crocodiles and other newcomers to Belgrade and Serbia, perhaps more than she is willing to share. Whether the Nile delta, Guatemala or tiny Serbia will be the house of crocodiles, whales and other magnificent creatures who truly sleep with their eyes beyond all evil, we might learn in the continuation of the poem or in the poetic cycle with this central topic, for the author, despite her minimal experience with rhyme [Paryse, Londyne…] feels at home with this style and with her lucidness and verse-laden engagement, the recommendation presents itself, meaning that, speaking in sports’ terms, the A-team stays the same.

Ljubodrag Stojanovic was born in Gnjilane on April 22nd, 1972, where he had lived until June 1999. He writes aphorisms, poems, rock lyrics, plays, short stories, and novels.

He is currently living in Nis.

Selected bibliography: ‘The Serbian Story’ (2002), collection of aphoristic prose ‘Both Insane and Confused’ (2009).