He Was Like... Poem by Diana Bosa

He was like in that old Hungarian fairy-tale.
On the breast; on that tender, rhinestone skin
He held the Sun and the Moon.

And then, at once it was revealed,
A colourful cosmos was hidden beneath the chest.
It was full of ever-wanderer planets and shooting stars.

On the maps of thews and muscles
One could lose its own way easily,
Unless one followed the zodiac of bones.

In the constellations of ribs
One could read the mysteries of future
By hitting the pike on the wormholes of veins.

So, I tamed and let myself whirled away with the restless blood cells,
Seeking for knowledge the sacred well of spinal fluid
To find a way into a mystic dimension, a never-known territory;

Through the gates of macrocosm;
Into his heart.