Flighty Calligraphy Poem by Daniel Ionita

My words stick to you and I cannot strip them off anymore.
They stick to your body like a calligraphy thousands of years old,
laid down by a Chinese scribe from the emperor's palace,
who did not receive any more news from his sweetheart,
left somewhere in a village hanging in some distant memory.

In the meantime, the calligraphy of my words strings itself on your body,
running faster and faster, flightier and flightier,
so that I cannot fathom it anymore.
Now and then I add a word, which hastily moves in a row between the others
but suddenly you put your index finger to my mouth
and stop the begetting of the words.

I said too much. And the actions...
the actions, impatient now
are also like a calligraphy,
fated to follow the same path -
and to run across your body,
flightier and flightier.