My mother used to say that
the yellow marks on my face
reflected the sun.
Sometimes she asked me to
sit still on the cold stone
just to prove that point.
I would refuse to see, eat,
for a day or two,
just to prove mine.
I would, instead, run to the river,
orphan but free.
The world stayed locked,
barely watching the colours through
a yellow window
until the day when
in a careless moment of joy
the poetry gave birth to me
under the candle light.
Yellow, ferocious birds escaped into the wild.
Flying away, small parts of my body.
I was new, alone with the sun,
big yellow eyes.
I do not mind sleeping in the frost
travel the seas.
Free like a full stop on a clean page.
I will say it again,
with the risk of repeating myself:
the poet does not exist really,
do not wait for him, do not.
The words themselves, not the tears, will choose to
get out in the world and
Photo: Maria Butunoi
We have become so good at
talking about the weather
when we don’t speak at all.
Not a moment of silence can pass
without me reminding you
how you left the white empty chairs outside.
Look, it rained on them
for weeks and weeks,
we have nowhere to sit and rest now.
We walk on the frozen cement with bare feet
the rust peels off in the sun,
our skin peels off
to reveal the true colour of our bones.
The parallel lines walked so far
With an empty stomach;
Every now and then I dust the buds
Which grow on my back and I know
There is no sign of the promised sun
But the hunger will make the day
I still see with wide eyes when you
Come back after a long day in the woods.
‘Tired?’ I say
‘Tired’ you reply and
Everything stops for a bit.
I sit on the carpet with you
Smaller than I remember
And look in the same direction.
My fingers catch the white pearl
We dropped on the white floor in the morning
‘A-ha! There it is!’ I shout
And jump up and down the room.
Just to keep you awake
For me a bit longer
I ask for stories, for tea, for coffee,
For lemon-water and sweets,
I ask to inspect your hair
I ask you to explain all the unknown words to me
One by one.
I sing and dance and walk around your chest
To prevent you from falling asleep
And turning your back
Photo: Maria Butunoi
I kicked a dog in the teeth.
The dog turned and
Bit my lip.
The gushing blood stained my words.
I am now silent.