Pineapple girl

                                      she remembered the times

                                      when I read Vámoš aloud

                                                    shouting and spitting

                                      – her fingers bent in every joint as she points

                                      in the orange light

                                      forcing her father to hold a phone to her dog

                                      its name a mantra

                                                    Bona Bona Bona –

                                      she was a pile of snow in May

                                                    dirty-white

                                                    dirty-blonde

                                      at the Trojica bus stop

                                      – dip your feet in as you wait

                                      in the early heat

                                      (how hot will it be in August then?)

                                      the genius child unnoticed

                                      when I got the praise

                                      – I remembered sitting in parks

                                      long before we grew

                                                    two smart girls

                                      so we could meet again

                                                    far north

                                      – there always was my mother

                                                    then her –

State Gothic

• You walk into the changing room of an H&M store. There is a little short-haired redhead. She pushes you against a wall. You can feel her pelvic bone against yours. You blink. She’s gone and you’re lying on the ground.
• You look at the river. The tide silently changes direction. There are two suns – one in the west, one in the east.
• Your mother calls you. She says your uncle has died. You walk into the kitchen to tell your uncle he has died. He doesn’t look you in the eyes. The room fades away into a corn field.
• There are cigarette filters on the sidewalks. You see a man pick some up and eat them. Then he walks into the road and gets hit by a car. His body floats an inch above the ground. It emits a low buzzing sound.
• A seagull lands on your head. You try to scare it away with no success. A green liquid starts pouring from your nose.
• You walk into a brothel and ask for a short-haired girl. They introduce one to you. She tells you she’s never had a woman pay for her before. She pushes you against a wall. You can feel her pelvic bone against yours. You blink. She’s gone and you’re lying in a man’s bed.

Fate of a genius child

she reached into her make-up bag

and shaded my eyes

reddened my lips

she pulled at my hair

until it formed a cat sleeping

I wore a bride’s dress

sat at the head of the table alone

admired

I was four

long-haired and thin

waiting to be Lolitized

manners quiet and light

my sleek fingers swift

running the pages of heavy knowledge

I recited greetings and facts

and all the little boys in the room

loved me

until I went at them armed

with atlases of animals

and insults they could not understand

– and heartbreak

I remained the girl they tried to kiss

for two whole years

girl with a grip trained to snap their arms

always a step ahead

until there was no one following me

the envy of mothers stopped

little boys grew

and I was left with books –

greetings and facts to recite

1968

you will be together for fifty years

starting in the sixties when

eight years old

we met in a line to buy flour

because the war was coming

heat was spilling from the walls

onto our bare feet

as we stood and feared to look

-

you were a bundle of manners

with a future in dissidence

I could see how your hair would grow

and what car were you going to drive

you travelled all Europe

wrote over walls

that were then turned into cult places

and I have seen it all

-

we have lived the war

as nations died out

and as both of us ceased

until this morning

when she told me

we would be together for fifty years

and I knew we could not

we have gone out of relevance after all

-

you can wait for me in the summer heat

you can wait until I’m late

and maybe then you will remember

we have met

neither of us already alive

but still dead we survived our whole lives

and now

there is nothing left to live

-

you remind me of the time

when there were answers to fight for

and places to sit at night

when it could be just silent

but we are not them anymore

you could now spill me if you tried

and let the last Russian dog in town

drink me as the brothers march down