* Re: Cut *

How unfortunate –
a detached fetus,
yet an unborn,
fragmented with still lukewarm

Blood,
A lump like a lemon,
lifelessly quite,
That greyish red tissue.

Flat placenta,
A cake marinated with cold jelly,
Your warm affection
Ichor injects

No more into the heart.
I hold (on to) it,
Clutch our unborn
of rosy future.

A grief, that is.
Alone in the room
A dead silence
Sing with the drifted weep.

Where is the mother?
O my
Love, “I am ill.”
I’ve been prescribed a pill to bury

The thick
Tenacious feeling.
Tristesse,
do(es)n’t leave me.

The stain on your
Glove merciless
Remark
Misty and mistaken and when

The pulse
Agitate your heart
Change your dark
Room of wound

How you depart –
Resilient victim,
Dream girl,
Mother without birth.

*Recomposed from Cut by Sylvia Plath

* One Day *

One Day,
Gabriel García Márquez might teeter on the tip of your tongue,
Your legs might become too stiff that walking together in a quite forest would be luxury,
Your wrinkles would proliferate as the memories carve into your beautiful body,
Your illed body would be too clumsy that I have to grab and lay it down on bed every night when I’m at home,
Life will demand us to pay the due and the obstacles would sabotage our happiness.
Or that might be me,
But still,
I will look at you and all the memories will come up and I will smile deeply so intensively recalling all the moments the reasons we fall in love the aroma of your hair the texture of your skin your body hair your existence and I would feel that love is always there and I just can’t stop loving you and I’m still deeply in love with you and all the dreams the fantasies the desire and the hope

If you stay