The Eyes Of The Walls (Surrealist Poem) Poem by Mihaela Pirjol

Dozens of switches emerge from the walls
like square faces, illuminating smiles
with a single touch at the tip of their noses;
leaves of plants like green creatures' palms,
waiting to slap you, or shake hands with you;
cactus-thorns waiting to pierce your fingers,
and taste your red blood with their green gelatine
beneath your affectionate, tender touch;
the parrots peek at you through the cage's bars
with their beady eyes—surveillance-camera,
shivering your admiration like sexual shudders,
with deafening twitters which make your heart
evade out of its own rib-cage, and explode your brain
in thousands of echoes, reverberating through your veins;
the abat-jours hide the light beneath umbrellas
emerging in the darkness, like mushrooms after the rain,
breaking the moss, and the moist orange foliage
in a forest frightened with wind, shaking branches
like skeletons unearthed from cemeteries;
like the dead claiming the life:
the little life that shrinks around your sparrow heart;
the mythological gods with their ghostly shadows
reflected in the sky-blue glass-walls, stretch to catch
the sun-beams, and walk out of their pedestals;
parading naked in the common—naked white silhouettes:
walking beings with no being of their own,
except in your mind which attributes them magic.