Friday, October 5, 2018

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I agree to this landscape
which does not exist.

The father is holding a violin.
Children are licking at the sound.

A draft
brushes the rose petals.

Then the war. We lose sight of one another.
Huddled in full sentences, words are in hiding.

An empty room
parked in the twilight
of an old apartment house.

Please leave a message,
says no one.
...
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Ewa Lipska
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Ewa Lipska

Ewa Lipska

Kraków
Ewa Lipska
Ewa Lipska
Kraków
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2/8/2026 6:35:10 AM # 1.0.0

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