Zhulduz Baizakova

(Almaty, Kazakhstan)

I Am Breathless


From my dreams
It is so hard
To breath
And carmine belt
Constrict me
Tightly
And weightless wing
Is hanging lightly
Behind my back…

There is no meaning
In awakenings
And hollow statements
That there are
No unacknowledged
Values left

The purple veins
Of the old angels
Appear
As immeasurable
Magnitude
Of corners and
The cavities
And that is where
The glassy coin of
The Sun
Streams down
Its morbid sickly petals…

Here
Mass sacrifice
Of lambs
Appear
As glimpse of Heaven
In growing disarray below

Submitted: Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, May 15, 2013
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