Vierme de matase

Ma faci ghem strans de dimineti cu soare,
Si ma desiri incet ca pe plani-glob,
Care din glob se face harta.

Firul vorbelor mele sta pe o bobina,
Pui mana ca un copil care o
transforma intr-un yo-yo.

Mainile mele sunt infasurate in jurul
genunchilor,
Si noaptea ma iei de mana
Ca pe florile de vanilie cu petale larg deschise.

Si parul meu e strans in mii codite, imblanzit de elastice.
Decat sa despici firul in patru, sa-l separi,
Tragi de legaturi si se desfac valvoi.

Pe razboiul de tesut m-am incurcat in urzeala,
Cu unghiile tale pricepute si buricele degetelor harnice,
Mi-ai intins firele la raport, si la placinte inainte.

Cand am fata burzuluita si stransa in riduri de furie,
Ma iei de mana calm cu vorbe pline-de saga,
Si ma dau de la razboi inapoi pe fire de tort unduind.

Little earthquake

I slide easily along your loopy words, making necklaces from the beads of my cold tears asleep on red cheeks,
I slide on the threads of my bordeaux stockings, along the spring scent, on the loom of the thoughts woven tightly,
I slide off the creases of a reeling cabbage skirt, on a tall cement slide in the park,
And you're always at the end of the slide with arms wide open to catch me, even if the
steps to the top are creaking and rocking like mad,
I slide across my fears and along my scuttled-ship shoes,
And in this long and winding slide, with crazy land gaping in the void,
With eyes gawking at the world and lips crooning to the wind,
Your arms are clutching me, your breath drowning the soul magma,
Words shoot out: Fiat lux.
The muddy eyes are seared shut, the dirty and cracked lips are sewn together,
My shoes come off, the great earthen rift sinks back into oblivion,
I stop sliding.
(And there's rainbow-flavoured candy melting on my tongue.)