Treasure Island

Miroslava Odalovic


It was the night-Bila je noć

it was the night that knew
the curve of my lips
the line of its own horizon
neath its touch-time
a crazy woman with the clock in her throat
with the clock on her chest
with the clock around her wrist
beat away the birds

it was the night that learnt
the shape of body
just to turn it into a sandstorm

bila je noć što znala je
krivulju mojih usana
liniju soptstvenog horizonta
ispod njenog dodira-vrijeme
luda žena sa satom u grlu
sa satom na grudima
sa satom oko zgloba
otkucavala je ptice

bila je noć što saznala je
oblik moga tijela
tek da bi ga pretvorila
u pješčanu oluju

Submitted: Friday, February 01, 2013
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