(after Homer)

I came at last to the banks of the Sava
where your words weld to silvery water
to throw the fragments of your last letter
this livid, insipid, meaningless gray juice.
“How are you?” you write “I think of you
– sometimes.
It’s really like 300 years ago”. Scattered
like wild berries, every cell of my heart
trembled with a sudden appetite to see
in your green elusive eyes, something
– radiant.
As I undressed in the cold air of the city
my whole body rising from the Nothing
Pole, I asked to the water to wash off
the dirt of my clothes, your sticky gray
– neutrality.
The river spitted out my dress spotless
and I spread it neatly along the shore
where its lapping leave all pebbles clean
waiting there for your numbness to dry
– in the sun.
And when the heat tightly gripped my neck
I took off gently my violet scars
played an invisible game, danced alone
to its fictive rythm, drunk in the mauve
– light.
At night, it had happened. I found the end
of my journey and stood, alive, in the river
of light, there, among the stars of Zagreb
Who wouldve known the sky would get that
– cold ?

Listen here, Read by RM: