On Friday

my body is a place of constant protest
all last night I wove the frost in your hair
and it was well. and it was one night
a night which feed us with white plants of frost
 
we saw a lot of people like us – freezing
on the big playing field of the illusions
we could see the universes in motion
the places of constant protests
 
we are standing in our frost nest
we are eating some of the apples of winter
and we are drinking rum till walls of tobacco turn white
 
everything is white. an uninterrupted strip of white paper
a white pool in which we are safely entering
to pick water lilies and irritate swans
 
we don’t know on what day we are
we don’t remember in which day we met
and I cannot write my name on you.
and you cannot write your name on me

(you can read in Romanian here)

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One thought on “On Friday

  1. Pingback: Vinerea | blog cu taxa inversa

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