23 april 2021
Carrying Scars
The prediction goes awry.
I wipe away an exotic
smudge on the paper.
I was trying to fight
venom of adverbs and
adjectives.
I want to retrieve my
poem, as it was― before
the digital onslaught of beheadings.
Give me my garden room,
baby moon and spotless
needles. My blood was blind.
I would come again in
my burial mode, when
your trenches are ready.
1 may 2025
Eva T.
30 april 2025
Eva T.
29 april 2025
Eva T.
26 april 2025
Eva T.
23 april 2025
wiesiek
21 april 2025
wiesiek
19 april 2025
wiesiek
19 april 2025
Eva T.
18 april 2025
jeśli tylko
17 april 2025
Eva T.