For Krešimir

The night wanted to live,
ether, what bodies do
within the walls of a skin.
You felt it in your mouth,
your lungs, your belly.
It warmed you in dark blood,
stashed your first memories
in the slow music
of a woman’s body.
The unseen, ruled by desire,
had a sudden fever,
a dream of you,
unpredictable but true.
It was the end of April
this time of year when
things go madly wrong
when girls spit in the mouth
of death and lie
like fallen statues,
thighs glued with pollen.
The sun rolled on the ground
and the world’s ruin
leaked from it, blue,
purple, green, changing color
on your skin now
bruised by love.
You became a mystery
to your own darkness,
wanting more and more of it.
The addiction was absolute,
‘Mine’ your favorite word.
By the time your pupil uncoiled
to swallow all this light
a ruler’s name fell as well
on your tender bones
and as they got harder
left you with no song
to call your own.
Anything this earth
gave you, anything,
dispossessed you all the same.
Where had it gone ?
The sweet sound of your name.
The sound Night uttered
before sea or even sky.
Was it the ultimate exile,
you from yourself ?
The new one passed
from mouth to mouth
like a bottle of gin,
and you started making songs
of absolute possession.
But it was too late,
“I” was superfluous
“You” couldn’t be ” I “.
You began to lose
one thing after another,
and the world went on
as if nothing happened.
But I remember, lover,
after having lost
a thousand times
the same horizon,
and renounced even more
to what must have been joy,
you still had kisses
for my salty hips.
Your flesh, inside me,
was full of births,
your voice bathed me
into the blackest ink,
and music,
music made and unmade us.
It went on, ceaselessly :
“Come, love. Die, love”,
a full, unbroken circle,
the end never known
from the beginning.
Your body, its weight,
brutal, was life
and death, all the rest,
trite, counterfeit.
Your cheap ciggies,
your cotton shirt,
were more real
than bread or air.
So let me drink now
to your messy hair,
to your sparkling eyes,
to the black fact
of their absence here.
All has been
taken from me.
Other hearts beat
under your drunken lips.
And the night
as you always wanted,
never stops to crush me,
crush me, crush me.