Dream of a butterfly

by Ana

I found myself this morning
in my mirror
looking dazed
somehow smaller than before
tilted my head
searched the bags beneath my eyes
played with my nose
it had turned green, crude
a color my mom never liked
the color of bile, maybe
anyway… mundane details
to the body I had inhabited
propped up on a connection
of small sticks
what an imagination she
must have had
to draw a


4 comentarii

  1. wow. citeste repede metamorfoza lui frantz kafka. iti va placea, cu siguranta.

    poemul tau ma surprinde. placut.
    este inteligent si frunos construit. transformarea, mirarea oglindirii, privirea intoarsa catre tine, redescoperirea intr-o alta ipostaza.

    evita inflatia de epitete. sugereaza-le altfel, fara sa le numesti.

    mai vreau!!!

  2. anana has no net these days… but, she’s readt the book!!!! 🙂 she will definitely give you more… just keep your eyes peeled.

  3. dont write „peeled” on this respectable blog, cow!:) si nu ma mai tine de vorba ca o iei!

  4. you must be thinking of something else. there’s nothing wrong with peeled. pee is not a… root. 🙂
    then. you just call me a cow, flat out??? no softener included? no… my little cow, sweet cow of mine, holy cow, holy mother of cow…? just plain, old cow? i don’t feel special enough this way. next time, please improve!!!!
    and don’t blame me. admit that you aren’t in the mood to work. i can definitely relate to that. 🙂

    red meat

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