poems/mandarin princess


small shoes

I haven't left my city in a long time
I walk its streets every evening
In the summer
Wearing the strapped sandals
In the autumn the worn shoes I won't part with
In spring the black rubber shoes
In winter I put on the boots
with the long laces
The shoes are extremely small
From morning to evening
I keep trying to squeeze my feet
into the summer sandals
into the worn shoes
into the long lace boots
depending on the season
Then I open the door slowly
and take the painful walk
Each step is a stab
of dull pain
The shoes are very small
and my steps are firm
caressing through the tiny sole
the sidewalks and alleys
of my city
Then I go back home
I free my feet
and I sleep



the march hare

today I fed the march hare
though fat
and white
he was very hungry


untitled

the doll
lying  on my chest  
I was watching it breathe


the white cup

the coming apart is slow
like a flat agony  
in which young stems are bond around the old branches
all that's left for me to do
is to pour the last drop of coffee into the white cup


origami

I'm afraid to enjoy
this autumn day's sun
the edge of the door when I close it carefully
or a superb supertramp song
sneaking through the radio speaker
I'll try to fold the joy
into an intricate origami
of an unexpected shape
which I'll admire now and then
without this origami I fear
everything will break
or crack
and I'm afraid of cracks
and of breakages  



(Mandarin Princess, Brumar Publishing, Timișoara, 2011)

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