Blesok no. 100, September, 2015
Poetry


The City Is Empty

Gorana Mitrović



The City Is Empty


(for Igor Isakovski)
    You leave crushed knees
    fallen on silence and ground
    you had to step “deep into the hole”
    you of all…
  
    left wandering in disbelief
    eyes unrecognizable from crying
    and verses that still float above the city
    together with the nightingale, that infamous bird
    lost under your window in the middle of winter…
  
    the city is empty:
    from the wind in dancing hair
    from the traces of the bike you rode
    from an always heavy backpack
    from the loud laughter in between earphones
  
    the night is empty too
    your faithful one, your love and foe
    the only one that could wait for the dawn with you
    the birds you took from the branches
    to put them to sleep in your verses
  
    the souls are empty
    free of emotions, pale and distressed
    as you polish a broad wonderful bar
    and get annoyed with pens that do not write
    ready to cuss, and conquer everything around you with beauty
    in this world, in that world and all other possible worlds
  
    you’ll see them
    you’ll see them
  
    your essence dispersed
    in a shine around the universe
  
    13.10     18.12.014




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