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Poem

And you can't paint him a laugh

his face is a metal curtain
with attached sign -
no emotions allowed

you can't
nor you know how
and you gladly would

breathe life into those cells
the same way that life spat in your face


acknowledgment of successfully driven tokens at belonging columns

and you, men
women
don't be mad
because yours are misplaced all over that ludo board

it was a bad, bad idea
to implement that rule of maneuvering the game according to rolls of a single die


countless thoughts
questions
from the other side only 
crystally voiceless visage

in the course of the night, a view flies there
where ripped breaths on a baby's mattress
quieten the trepidation down

I'm a bad person
I really am

but if tomorrow I learn how to smile instead of him
maybe my name will get to Saint Peter's list

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