Maya Sarishvili Biography

Before sleep, I remove
every sentence I've heard
since dawn like a thermometer
from the day's armpit
...

It won't work out this way,
Even if you tip over a whole forest,
You won't be able to find a single root anywhere.
...

Clothes come to the party,
they wear you underneath
and I'm afraid.
Roasted nuts
...

Now, the storm has arranged the insane,
set down a different order.
Those at the end are children, like rhymes.
...

There was one joy -
I sat on his lap
And into my eyes
He spilled juice from the orange peel.
Then he forgot me,
When he lit a cigarette
But I still could not walk very well,
I came sliding off his lap
And pressed my cheek to his shoe.
How different is the sound under the table
Of guests' voices,
Muffled sounds.
Muffled space.
Barely,
Barely had my eyelashes
Dried from the drenching of orange juice.
There was this one joy.
...