Kapka Kassabova Poems

I imagine my life as a city
somewhere in the third world, or the second.
And I want to be a tourist
in the city of my life.
...

There is a field of frozen mud,
and in the middle, a pear tree
that bears fruit, still.
...

I consult my great itinerary of confusions
and it appears we've arrived
in the North. The sea-gulls glide,
inordinately large and slow,
...

Here they are, inside the album,
they squint in the September sun
of nineteen-fifty-eight,
of nineteen-eighty-four.
...

which

has over 300 natural lakes

is one of the oldest countries in Europe
...

After the long day
My father locks the doors
The windows
...

My father's breath is like a cave
of dripping stalactites and echo

My mother sleeps and in her dreams
the worst is happening, again
...

It's always strange to sleep in cities
you haven't seen in daylight.
You could be anywhere, anyone
could breathe next door while
...

Year one. At the end of a dusty road, find a malarial swamp.
Drain and fill with earth. Get sick. Curse the day you came.
...

which

has over 300 natural lakes

is one of the oldest countries in Europe
...