Eating Poetry / Mancand Poezie Poem by Magdalena Biela

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

MARK STRAND

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Mancand poezie

Cerneala-mi curge pe la colturile gurii
Nu exista fericire ca a mea.
Am mancat poezie.

Biblitecara nu crede ceea ce vede.
Ochii ei sunt tristi.
si ea merge cu mainile-n rochie.

Poemele-s duse.
Lumina-i vaga.
Cainii sunt pe scarile subsolului si vin sus.

Pupilele lor se rotesc,
picioarele lor blonde ard precum o perie.
Sarmana bibliotecara incepe a-si sterge picioarele si plange.

Ea nu-ntelege.
cand ma asez in genunchi si ii ling mana,
ea tipa.

Sunt un om nou.
Marai la ea si latru.
Zburd bucuros in bezna livresca.