Making poetry more bearable to look at

 

MAKING THE FACE MORE BEARABLE TO LOOK AT

„Now what?”
I asked

„What?” she
said, not facing me

she was
busy scratching
the wood of the desk
with her fingernail

up and down
and up and down
as if coloring
with a crayon

„What are you doing?”
I asked

and she said
„I’m making the face
more bearable to
look at.”

Of course

She had this issue

Saw faces wherever
she looked. On almost
any damn surface

I knew people
in my life
who were tormented by
this condition

She was not one of
them
because she was not real

Hence
I worried not about my
desk being scratched

It would be a scratch mark
that the rest of the
world would never
be able to see

„Alright then,” I told her:
„I’m going for
a walk.
Alone. Maybe when I
get back we’ll compose
some verses together. Like
in the good old days.”

She ignored me

Kept scratching
the wood

When I came back
she was no longer
there

Only the
scratch mark

I’m looking at it
right now
Even feeling it

©Bogdan Dragoș

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some things can never be put back together

Some things can never
be put back together
after they’ve been
taken apart
No matter how much
willpower is involved
One of those things,
she now knew for sure,
was a marriage
Like the one
she was presently fleeing,
flying down the highway
like a fiend or a bat out of hell
Another such thing
could be her right hand
resting severed on the seat
there beside her
Though she wasn’t so
sure about the hand
Maybe if she made it
to the hospital in time?
Maybe

Pour the Whiskey Over My Heart and Set It On Fire
Copyright © 2020
HST & Bogdan Dragos

Bogdan Dragoș: Ultimate art

lights

on both sides

of the river

 

and her face in

the middle

 

on the bridge

 

somehow brighter

than all of

them

 

brighter than

everything

 

It’s the sad

smiles, with glinting

tears in the eyes

that shine the

brightest

 

And all he could do

was watch

 

The urge to stop

her

from jumping was

there,

but even if he did

stop her…

What would that accomplish?

 

She’d just find

another way

 

No, this was not the

time to play hero.

Sad smiles with

tears glinting in the eyes

need no heroes

 

Tonight,

he came here to be

alone. He was just

another failed artist

 

But tonight he also

learned

that

the most beautiful art

is not made by

human hands

 

As she turned around

one more time,

thanking him for not

playing hero,

and jumped

ultimate art was performed

and witnessed

and will never be

forgotten

 

Ultimate art

makes the soul

transcend

 

And witnessing it

he too

felt inspired

and ready

 

Text © Bogdan Dragos