The Picture Poem by Marieta Maglas

She descended from the picture
to sit down on her
empty chair.
Her geographic tongue
kept silence.
She was in the middle
of nowhere. Her
cubic dreams
dissolved in the reality of her
fashionable loneliness - a mask.

In the still air,
a bird like a huge cross
made of icy love brought
transparency.


She took her diary
and started to jot down
phrases about
a life in pieces. Some old words
that have been
deposited there
looked like those dried leaves
of any herbarium.
Her diary was not green at all
while keeping safe
her unique love, longing for a little life -
two elementary cells
subsiding into a
biochemical contemplation,
seeds growing
in the humungous womb
of the earth
to become
future flowers.

On the retina of her eyes,
lost worlds
were still existent,
still green.

She looked into the mirror
to see the unseen.
She understood her death.

She would leave that space to go
somewhere where
she could hope against hope
to find a little happiness.
She would go, but
she did not.
She disappeared
into the picture.

Poem by Marieta Maglas