The Balkans

The Balkans

The Balkans
Between Two Worlds
The Dunghill of Beaux Arts
Pax mecum
Poem de morte for 3 mixed voices
… Ante portas

We enter the god-forsaken grave
by the unnaturally dead Horse
we move according to the
Trojan Law of mirage
to see time’s emptiness
the rubble of Olympus’ family feuds
unsatisfied like sleepwalkers
embracing only hot air
its magnetism and oxygen discharged

What of the gods and goddesses?
They are heaped in new godless temples
their penises worn
by lustful caresses
sweaty testicles
teats and clitorises dried up
by lustful looks
with pained grimaces
and silent cries

when silence falls like a guillotine
when all is empty and finally dead
they mortally grieve
for their lofty pedestals
their Doric grandeur
seeking blood-sacrifice
to wash their antique, their rheumatic feet

Troy, Pergamum, Ephesus, 1984

AuthorZoran Ančevski
2018-08-21T17:23:58+00:00 April 1st, 1999|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 08|0 Comments