Ilma Rakusa Poems

Was the sofa red?
The transatlantic trunk
stood there like a boat
bound for America.
...

Talking of sleep
of lying awake at night
when the fox barks
when the ambulance howls
...

The ferns slip into the river
mud flowing through Bohemia
the mosquito bites confuse
the long-tongued dogs
...

My parents the carpet
and me
the silence the foot
injury
...

The bread is burnt
the pencil trembles in my hand
my tongue is cramped
eyes crying no tears
...