DUET POEM by S. SAVA & A. DUBOVICI
to kiss the concrete—
a space lips meet rust,
a house with blood floors, walls trembling
inside her skin as she wakes up another morning to feed the birds of the unknown
I wish I could imagine a world of no more dark secrets or whispers to endure a foreign soul crushing death & tones of blank paper. Yet real monsters do exist outside pure folklore. They’re faces who smile at the highest circles possibly imagined.
Smiles like Lamia’s—children,
slithering beneath the bunk bed
when night catches you playing with low flame in foreign streets.
Faces like Lamia’s—men,
skin washed in moonshine,
as your life siphons out,
your blood stitching her necklace closed.
Only then do you see her step out of her skin.
Monsters as Lamia—women—
her irises keep the ledger,
where stolen children and hollowed men
are entered against your name.
This noise will hunt us
dissolving our collective wounds in a massive, collective rage —
milk teeth and blood all together
wingless birds chopped out their own nest.
I am the child that never dies.
I am the blaze that tears apart every single cell in strange, unfamiliar blankets. Those horrifying nighttime stories of the most vulnerable wrapping tight an imaginary mom.
And cry, infinite cry.
IN FI NITE.
Photo courtesy: Laura Makabresku - Illustrator.
