Candlelight is a Form of Good-bye
This is my caged bird, that’s roasting night sounds,
measuring secrets. In the meadow, a wicker-haired
godmother waits with clear eyes, taking slugs of the
overripe darkness. We dive headfirst into a steel
canyon, distend to a sky-worn quilt. Prince watches
from his balcony; wants to say forever, or till I
break the spell. But lies rattle on branches, erase my
candlelight. At the birthplace of our de-creation, the
sky leathers clay furrows.
I offer cinnamon thrushes. He already knows. Memories,
just as hearts, became ungenerous with time.
About the Poet
Ana Prundaru is a visual artist, writer and translator, who lives a stone’s throw away from the birthplace of milk chocolate. Her work is forthcoming in Litro Magazine, 3 AM Magazine and Rattle. She has a photo blog at https://socksinflipflops.