Horatiu Stamatin Poems
A woman came in my garden.
She took off her bra, cut her left bosom, and buried it in the shadow of a tree.
After a while I kept working with the fruit, and she had got another bosom grown.
Digging a tree root, I came across a rifle. I lifted it to the sky and fired.
I heard a sigh and a blue liquid started to dropp down as from a wound.
My lady neighbour is another pope. She drinks water with the cross and her arms stretch to the other side of the river where a saint is sleeping. Because she drinks the saint’s mouth too.