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I will look incresingly like something eaten

I will be somebody's spoon of honey

unless I turn into another thing


appearing more often

in a lacquered black bra and bare

nerves I will cause my own eating


meeting people I will talk to them

about birds of paradise in green filigrin

about bottichelli and maidens heavy with suggestions

about feelings puffed and sweet like cakes

full of cream


the listeners will stare

the tension will creep up like a yellow palm

it will stretch their tendons into strings

and play a sonatina


I will look increasingly like something eaten

Unless I turn into another thing righ now


I snap out on time, I sign

my first name

on the act committed


and since it's winter

I vomit snow over my native town


Translated by © Kapka Kassabova. All rights reserved!


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