In my barbaric tongue

by Halina Poswiatowska

Halina Poswiatowska

in my barbaric tongue
flowers are called flowers
and about air I say air
and stepping on the pavement bricks
with my heels I tap in
brick brick brick
and I say stone so softly
as if stone were velvet
and I bury my face in your neck
as if a cat's warm fur grew there
and I love
my barbaric tongue
and say: I love





Last updated January 14, 2019