Lozenge, contributed by Viktorija Bogdanova

November 2015

 

How silently hollow are

the bricks that flow through lonely walls,

like a stony droplet over eyelashes,

they pierce through every mortar scar,

my soul

is too narrow for your body,

your thought

is fractured by my feeling.

 

Like a drop of sugar,

dissolved in frozen wormwood,

my being is rolling

in an abyss of cynical points,

while everything around me

is pressing like burnt skin,

I am silent, I cry

crystal with colourless sadness.

 

Not a single story

believes the one who erased it,

not a single light

radiates for the dark it has buried,

except one damn lozenge

resting upon a foundation of fractures

and its black permanence

swinging through painful ruins.

 

(Kokino-megalithic observatory, 19.02.2013)

 

Mark Proosten