sprawled figures basking in the impressionist sun
shooting through a break in the clouds
he said
you are forest thick brush strokes of my outdoors
a window opening on landscapes devoid of human presence
my lack of sharpness, my fine edges
he said
you are my fleeting glimpse of forgotten languages
an ephemeral moment
lived without a straight jacket
he spoke of water lilies and japanese bridges
imprisoned in an imperfect symmetry
and a dream he had of a cuckoo
pardoned by time
your heart is river shaped
he said
your winds intensely colored and homeless
howl through my trees
i was his mother’s womb
he said
throwing his elongated shadow
on my walls as
I flung off my everything to expose
my naked body to the firing squad
Header photograph © Darlene Anita Scott.
Bojana Stojcic teaches, bitches, writes, bites and tries to breathe in between. Her poems and flash pieces are published or forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Anti-Heroin Chic, Burning House Press, The Opiate, Down in the Dirt, Mojave Heart Review, Dodging the Rain, The Stray Branch, Tuck magazine, X-R-A-Y Lit Magazine, Nightingale & Sparrow, Visual Verse etc. She blogs regularly at Coffee and Confessions to go.