buds

i’d crush you under a cherry leaf,
green and undecided like my fingers now,
searching for the night on your chest heaving under the weight of my gaze –
i’d crucify you on a mouthful of wakefulness,
to weave threads of awe from the light breaking in your eyes,
and after in the air coming out of your lungs would bloom
a thousand fallings from heaven
i’d turn into a small stone,
grey and random and not smelling like anything,
proud to have been the heart of your mountain of salt.
and then i’d secretly break into grains of sand,
thus giving light a chance to heal of us
and of our glances glinting like the eyes of wolves
in the middle of winter,
and i would sink myself gently in history’s thigh,
so that the roots of the yet unborn cherry trees would also learn
the story over which their ancestors
snowed themselves

© 2015 Liliana Negoi

originally written in Romanian

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Comments
One Response to “buds”
  1. Martin says:

    Such a lovely expression of adoration:
    “to weave threads of awe from the light breaking in your eyes,”

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