Sonja Manojlović

I keep hurrying
a man and a woman
a child and an old man
...

Not a woman, not a child, a happy beast
in a shallow wood, I lie in a shop-window
turning the city with my feet
so I went to see
...

I am calling
with words from my life
Sometimes they say
shut up, mouth
...

I only just live so,
I enumerate, I choose,
through the dead ends of senses there loom the adjectives
Not a name, not a shelter!
...

He comes any time
I wake up and lie down alone
We sit at the table
he has my body for lunch and for dinner
...

So what if I live unskillfully,
if I stagger
mutilated to a thousand eyes
...

If this is all, I remember everything,
houses scattered into what can not be heard,
children's speech, squeezed, possessed
...

They steadily swarm
in the same direction
If I don't tell them
in a white dream I agree to everything
...

On the table there is a list
of what I care for
Caressed things, thrown-away things
Creep through half-alive stones and grass
...

...