RAVENS

web

I refuse to count the birds,
perched upon your shoulders.
I refuse to compete with them.
I refuse to feed them - with words,
fears and other seeds.

When you are coming towards me,
it is not you I see first, but them:
a whole flock of hungry ravens,
nesting in your forehead.

You feel them, yet you do not know
that they're there.

It is you I kiss,
but a heavy clap of wings
that moves the air.

My arms are pecked all raw.

Only when you sleep
they take off.
Then I stand guard
by you, as you sleep.

I will wait a little longer
for the air to turn all black.
Tarred feathers
to float in all directions
in the room.

Here are my lips.

The knife is
in my hand.

© Patricia Nikolova
© Andrey Filipov, translated from bulgarian
=============================
© E-magazine LiterNet, 09.08.2018, № 8 (225)