Anna

Anna

A Poem by Marri
"

surreal, uut, authomatic

"

Anna

 

You keep asking me why I always mistrust men.

I don’t know. I hear the sea at all times.

 

Her scream runs in a vein of air between

Mountains; It is how I know Anna makes love

To you: on her knees, blind.

The ground turns to sky, wooden and endless and

Black… it’s not the type of love I could ever offer,

it’s too toothless for me and sounds nothing like

Jarmusch.

I can eat an orange in front of you

And let it squirt on your shirt in the mid of August,

in a small Greek street while we both sit on the ground

and measure the summer by the cars passing

vibrating in flutters on my dress

with cherries. I can call this happiness but

my mouth is full. The asphalt burns scruples and the

fallen scoop of ice cream.

Your wife, Anna, sleeps with open eyes, somewhere else,

next to you,under sycamore trees, Janus-faced,

like a pendulum pinching your slumber.

It is my blood that streams thin but I am re-winding time:

we are nothing but cats, one-eyed, hiding under cars, we

are so black I can burst our skins and let them

shrivel in the hands of unborn children. What remains

are our sticky insides, figs, or Anna’s tears, or is it car oil,

never a safe haven: the hot machinery.

We choke on red balloons and loneliness.

 

Anna counts on abacus your gazes in the other direction.

She could never give you that kind of epicurean

drama or make you feel like a mountain; she shrieks

yes, dried out, never like jungle and never like

summer at two; her echoes are water colours,

 and I, I am exploding in her.

 

Thirty-five.

Just in the last year.

 

 

Yet, who is to howl but mercy?

I bring her slowly to different graveyards,

Holding her hand.

 

 

Fool, Anna, what a fool,

to wear my mosquito net for a wedding dress;

it is a goddamn winter, bless you.

 

She blows up balloons

for your son's third birthday.

 

You give me your ice cream.

We walk back,

barefoot,

in circles.

 

© 2014 Marri

 


© 2014 Marri



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S**t I wish I had the time! This is brilliant, in so many ways.. I'll be back.

Posted 4 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 4, 2014
Last Updated on January 4, 2014

Author

Marri
Marri

Bremen, Germany



About
http://www.marrri-nikolova.tumblr.com/ 'If I knew myself, I'd run away...' I pick a word, phrase, sentence, sometimes even a whole chunk of text from what I wrote yesterday, the day be.. more..

Writing
Grapes Grapes

A Poem by Marri