Maja Apostoloska

A Letter To Laodicea

And unto the angel of the church
of the Laodicea write…
Revelation (3: 14)

Your sun is dying
in a cunning agnosticism.
In the pure Logos,
in all-lingual odes
squirm all − ists and − isms.

When a blind man leads another…

Eye diseases are not a seldom thrut.
Reaching for the gold coin
the half-naked lady
falls into a trap,
then walks upon the icy floor…
Ah, Laodicea, Laodicea!

... they both fall into a hole.

It is shameful, o “pure” bride,
always to caress the same.
Its mouth will vomit over you.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 5, 2009

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