What an Awful Pleasure

/, Blesok no. 91/What an Awful Pleasure

What an Awful Pleasure

At 8 O’clock
At Central Station
A Stone in the Swamp
Another Stone in the Swamp
Under the Creed"s Mantle
The Tip of My Tongue
Misery
Fear
What an Awful Pleasure

The stone’s finely wrought parable
ends with a plop!
And the circles of life start rippling
and dissolve in the silence.
The stones finely wrought parable!
The water turns over in its sleep,
rolls from its shoulder onto its right
ant some flying from lies down in its bed of slim.

AuthorRumen Leonidov
2018-08-21T17:22:42+00:00 September 21st, 2013|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 91|0 Comments