Mother Reality Poem by Sibila Petlevski

Worlds lay cuckoo's eggs for each other
and therefore, each time when illusions
with which our home is overcrowded
open their small, greedy and ugly beaks,
our reality feeds them with our flesh.
This much pain can be taken only with
the explanation that no matter how hard it may be,
everything stays in the family, among us.

When they kiss us we stay in their mouth
for too long. They are not what we think they are -
our sisters. We don't resemble them at all while we fly
in the circle. In this headless spinning in which
our circles touch the bats' circles, it is unclear
whether they are flying ahead of us or behind us,
whether they are really so beautiful or our mother
loves them too much. Mother Mary, pray for us.

Translated by Miljenko Kovačićek and the author