LILLA LATUS

LILLA LATUS

FLIGHT

and later there was the Sal island

my hair was rustling

on your belly

the sea lost its salty taste

the sky loved me

with your eyes

thanks to us

the Earth was going round

planes flying by

recorded

a further turbulence

 

AWAITING

I was  expecting so much

from that night

it showed up

full of promises

and in festive black

I was expecting so much

only dawn

did arise

 

FRIDA

death  did not resemble

an old, wrinkled  lady

it was a dancing girl in

a Tehuacan dress

alluring and floating

above her head

like a bird  which

sat  over her eyes

on that day Frida

got on a bus

(she wanted to buy taco or churro)

which was to take her

to the limits

of pain

a driver was glancing

either at the picture of St.Mary of Guadalupe

or photos with naked girls

a painter with a bucket

full of red paint

was leaning  against a handrail

which was about to pierce

Frida’s pelvis

excluding one of

the possible versions

of future

then Diego did not know

that he would be

the next accident

 

A GIRL WITH RAINDROPS IN HER VOICE

She used to tell me about Plato and Aristotle.

Her Slavic accent sounded like gravel in the

Rain. Ing,ing, ing…

Feeling a fading shadow around my neck

I see a  bright cave paved with desire and

Fear. In her language love and hatred are feminine

Nothing was neuter. Golden mean in motion.

I was Alexander but not great enough to conquer

The furthest reaches of her soul.

Leaving  was a move excluding one of

The possible versions of future.

All places of my happiness are taken and create

Gloomy theory of forms.

Sitting in a brown study with  blind shutters,

I can hear raindrops searching for a dry land.

Falling, tapping, dying, ing, ing, ing…

 

MY RIGHT HAND

knows

how to wipe away a tear

from a kid’s face

good at handful

taking

clenches

the small fist

hearing white

hoof  of anger

sometimes

salty

as if somebody

sprinkled

tears on it

can  prevent  eyes

from being

cried out

has hollow gestures

down pat

right

missing hand

LILLA LATUS

LILLA LATUS – lives in Zdunska Wola, Poland. Poetess, translator, author of reviews, song lyrics, articles about travelling. Many times awarded both for her poetry and engagement in cultural activity for local community. Published nine books of poems : „The letter” (1993), „The seventh sea of anxiety” (1995), „Out of lace and dust” (1997), „Scent of touch” (1998), „Loving” (2001), „Dog’s blood” (2004), „Tomorrow is the most beautiful day of the week” (2009), „Behid the world’s door” (2012), „ Lillies” (2017).  Her poems have been published in many magazines and anthologies, also in USA, Australia, The Czech Republic, Italy.