The Death of a Siamese Twin

/, Blesok no. 92/The Death of a Siamese Twin

The Death of a Siamese Twin

The Little Rabbit
The Death of a Siamese Twin
To the Poppy

Inside your never, when I melted as a child.
Inside your never, we played a game of basketball.
Uncle Alzheimer knocked on my scull doors and opened my hemispheres.
Two halves drained on a plastic orange drainer;
they were too big to fit;
small pieces hung on the sides.

The drums, wrapped by hand, assisted the expectation of an encounter.
The mutual spite brought forward false loves.
The plastic years melted into Barbie dolls smelling of barbecue.
The aledged artists made lights of pumpkins and lit alternative allies.
Next to this there was a pool, desperate hookers waiting for their dose behind it.
The dozer did not work so I finished the whole bottle.
The forgotten hugs squinted jealously.

Love remains shivered with cold making verses;
they reminded of the times when
the young carelessly made love “like dogs”.

Damned be the day when I sold you for a handful of words and new experience!
Damned be all newly written poems!
I love you like a frozen snowman loves the winter
– melt me in a new love.

AuthorZoran Bejkovski
2018-08-21T17:22:41+00:00 November 3rd, 2013|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 92|0 Comments