Short Serbian Poems

The storms are lifting now,
where once the auburn horizons clashed with dark,
where mother led her children to drink,
where father broke the moistened dirt,
where I spoke of the bent little days;
there are no storms that we can touch,
nor the candle beside our bed; there are no monsters
that I am aware, I only know there could have been....

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An afternoon beer in the shower
The written prayers of a Serbian bishop
Eating Mexican food alone at the market
Chopsticks and noodles
A prayer beneath a canopy of trees
Contemplating a woman’s lips
Contemplating her kiss
Waking to the rain on your window
Writing a poem for a black widow
These are the sacramental acts
For the simple and holy essence of your life....

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