The Goosefleshes And The Shudders Poem by Borce Panov

The Goosefleshes and The Shudders

An army of the goosefleshes like an army of ants is crossing over
From my hand to your bosom
And from your hand to my hip
Eh, this is the love
And death
This is the shudder
Whose dream is paralyzing my hand
And I am ordering to her to squeeze my palm
And to return my blood to me from drowsiness
Eh,
When this army of love is going through
All of mine is crossing over into you
All of yours is crossing over into me
And you are saying to me
That this night a cloud of goose fleshing Tango is surrounding you
And with uneasiness
You are pulling away petals from woman in you
While cell by cell we are becoming parents
Eh,
Sleeplessness shuddering over my body
Could you know
What surgeon is a dream with scalpel and no knowledge
When my soul
With one hand is crossing over into another birth

Borce Panov