THE SCENT OF YOUR CELLS

valleys grass fields hills
gliding
by my brain-reel
the scent
of your cells pressed in blood vessels under your skin
has caused the particular panorama
the scent
follows me
also when I see an innocent tree such as a birch
I
am not myself
any more
a path of cropped poplars stretches
in front of my perspective
your repeated sermons on the poplars' tale
have given me
a headache
in the grass in the valley
while the shadow of light is wafting sweetness
the landscape looks like a green snake
my brain-reel is now folded in
and is waving the light farewell
the verdent blanket beneath God’s sky is still stronger
than
the scent
of your body’s cells
and you are not here, at all
you are not at all awake

Narcisa Vucina
Copyright@June 2008