Wednesday, November 10, 2010

NICHITA

NICHITA

You look overweight unprepared for a photograph.
You look dishevelled
Posing for a magazine.
You look like a drunkard
Alive to sentimentality now
You look proud wearing
A cracked leather jacket
Your father forgot behind
For you to recry memories.
Your grey eyes now
They stare like ice blue
Vodka.
Staring away to a cement reminder of mortality…
And who bled you? Who
Reinvented mathematics?
Failing his Nobel,
Painting his underwear red,
Shot you in sepia
Looking like a man not a child,
Like a wolf like a lion,
Like you’re unsure the
Dimension to carve up
And when but now
Your cheeks, wet, ballooned,
Wept demons and spread
Wings over black walls.

--This poem is from The Wooden Tongue Speaks, by Bogdan Tiganov, soon to be published by Honest Publishing.

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