SYLWIA K. MALINOWSKA
1.
In the Centesimal tree
In the drift of a bird
In the breasts
Devoid of milk
A divine baby with a
child's head
Bare
A genuine illusion
Without a son
Without a father
Catching onto itself
His head
Her body
Adultery
Between each other
In the swaying umbilical cord
A miracle
was in less than a few moments
Leaning back
Locked in herself like a shell
A miracle
Heard the same cry
For the tenth time
Her hands
Her thighs
It must have cried out
The view was solidifying
Nobody is crying
If he was her
A peak of prosperity
And nothingness
Embryo
Stuck in development
In a totalitarian state
They sleep under water
With an open glass door
Flowers growing out of asphalt
2.
Thousands of small worlds
Hands reaching out
They stand and watch
Everything is in everything
This something tempts with charm
Recompensing for oblivion
On current existences
He will talk about her part
Like harp strings
They will not let them grow
Bigger and more numerous
Dancing on their verses
of the Culture of the age of
thought
The flow of all things
The tongue touches the ear
The child itself
It remembered the door
Open to the departing
Slowly one after another
It sat on the opposite side
A line from the table
A line on the wall
In the incubators under the eyelids
Her body did not tolerate moisture
In a cramped room
The curio of here and now
The silence deserves some word
In white aprons
Inside the white
Mystery
of Eucharistic heirloom
She did not know her own height
The braver stride blindly
Desires and teases with refusal
It stayed irrevocably
Behind her back
3.
Her earthly home
A shroud with metal edges
Glass and tongue
I do not remember the body that
reeks of reed
He is not the one guilty
It's a trap craving for a
shout
Open the roof
They will not have anywhere to hide
In the hymn of his clamped breasts
He recalled the ones on his mind
How to heal this
Not me because I was there
My root touched him
His pieces
I discard his openness
My relative
Priceless and quiet
The ruler and the handmaid
Without missing anything
Shedding their nakedness like a
scent
Like disability
Your words open up purely
They were given a black gloss
They glister
Unleashing their idol Besides me
He wanted to be good
He floats in the ganglions of her
head
She seems to speak
SYLWIA K. MALINOWSKA
SYLWIA K. MALINOWSKA : A graduate of the faculty of
Journalism and Education at the University of Warsaw. A lover of Sylvia Plath
and Emily Dickinson's poetry, passionate and tireless in familiarizing oneself
with literature and striving at becoming an expert in it. Her poems were
printed in journals such as "Poezja Dzisiaj", as well as in numerous
anthologies in Polish, English and Bulgarian. She also writes poetry for the
photo album by Beata Cierzniewska "Cognition" presented at The Cooper
House Gallery in Dublin. The author of the literary broadcast “Black Drawer” in
Dublin. She also collaborates with
HelloIrlandia , which promotes Polish literature abroad. Her poems were
printed in journals such as "Poezja Dzisiaj", as well as in numerous
anthologies in Polish, English and Bulgarian. She also writes poetry for the
photo album by Beata Cierzniewska "Cognition" presented at The Cooper
House Gallery in Dublin. The author of the literary broadcast “Black Drawer” in
Dublin.
No comments :
Post a Comment