indiana pehlivanova

Rookie (08/19/90 / Bulgaria)

Ode To The Book - Poem by indiana pehlivanova

Oh, my dear poor book

I am sauntering on your dirty, scrappy
But full of music pages
Some of them are burned.

But others painted
And some of them are dizzy
Dizzy - from the smoke

From the smoke the wind is driving
From the crazy currents
From the train to China making rain

Until it arrives
I watch the rats
Running through

Your lines.
I want to touch them
With my hand but I can't

Reach so far
I watch you
Thrown there-

On the kitchen
Floor. Maybe people
Are trying to learn how to cook

But they did take the wrong book!

Because there on page 52
I see a hole, dug deep into the ground
Filled with victims from the war.

I see a woman praying there - behind the yellow rug
Here - on the page thirteen - A few blue flames.
A seismograph is measuring the force

Of an Earthquake and there are fissures decorated
All around page two I can hear the winter
Bringing roses from page 106.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, August 17, 2010

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