Gabriela Duricova

(22.5.1984 / Bratislava)

Apples Of Venice

The street you live in goes so quiet
Time slows its gait when passing by
Sandstone facades and ancient posts
While dusk calls out the desert ghosts

Your world turns yellow for the day
And sunset burns it to the ground
Then through smoke angels make their way
Coming to watch over your sleep

The night is fairly divided
By two bright moonbeams - your closed eyes -
- Ships eager to sail coastless skies
The lashes pointing down like oars

Dream is their captain setting course
Through empty canals of Venice
Sounded by distant violin
On the piazza grow apple trees

Branches covered with soft warm skin
They keep fruits tender, ripening
Chastily behind foliage
You hide them both in your embrace

Red leaves like kisses upon blue
Liquid of pavement blossoming
With stars submerged; they float, then sink
Fingers make bridge from me to you

Submitted: Thursday, December 19, 2013

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