poems/mandarin princess

small shoes

I haven't left my city in a long time

I walk its streets every evening

In the summer

Wearing the strapped sandals

In the autumn the worn shoes I won't part with

In spring the black rubber shoes

In winter I put on the boots

with the long laces

The shoes are extremely small

From morning to evening

I keep trying to squeeze my feet

into the summer sandals

into the worn shoes

into the long lace boots

depending on the season

Then I open the door slowly

and take the painful walk

Each step is a stab

of dull pain

The shoes are very small

and my steps are firm

caressing through the tiny sole

the sidewalks and alleys

of my city

Then I go back home

I free my feet

and I sleep

the march hare

today I fed the march hare

though fat

and white

he was very hungry

untitled

the doll

lying  on my chest  

I was watching it breathe

the white cup

the coming apart is slow

like a flat agony  

in which young stems are bond around the old branches

all that's left for me to do

is to pour the last drop of coffee into the white cup

origami

I'm afraid to enjoy

this autumn day's sun

the edge of the door when I close it carefully

or a superb supertramp song

sneaking through the radio speaker

I'll try to fold the joy

into an intricate origami

of an unexpected shape

which I'll admire now and then

without this origami I fear

everything will break

or crack

and I'm afraid of cracks

and of breakages  

(Mandarin Princess, Brumar Publishing, Timișoara, 2011)