Biographical Notes Poem by Dorina Brandusa Landen

We could hear the wine running through the grapes
among clouds
beacon a half of a metallic moon
a clock breaking up time.

Counting its silences
alone
in that night
my mother was crying.

I wasn't born yet
and death was swimming with me.

The body no longer fit
at the heart of darkness
rushing me to live
to reach the end of the road.

I was born without ceasing
without a blood stain
like a morning on a tongue of a bell
grinding my own cells
I was becoming sentiment

but from inside an angel was watching me
clean and bright as a mirror
he the non-final the ignorant
subdued to the rose
once again trail of blood of my defiance
it was the very fragrance.

My mom
younger than me in death
delivered me at the turn of an evil hour
filled my mouth with the memory milk
and a deep sadness
in vain.