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Something else there was to find at home

Besides dust blossomed trees

Crushed palaces, risen booths,

Folks striving for life.

Unleashed, urged by voices

From the night of past events

I was ready to inhale,

The scent of rotten wood,

Chamber of my people,

Resting in peace for a long time now,

There, among perfumed weeds.

All said and done: scraped,

Some courage off a lottery bill,

Absorbing pure love out of

Calcium inherited by earth.

And the instant-death,

Stereotype skeleton,

On shoulder touched me to mock

I swallowed its skull

And spat it back out,

Burning flames of hatred around,

Makin' it leave, makin' it run.

Then set off in darkness

On road, bellow the hill

With no other fear of living.

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Copyright © Katiusha Cuculescu, 2004