Public Republic

Zoya Marincheva

Photo: paper or plastic?

On day one of the new year they went shopping for new hides.
Angular roofs towered over creamy facades with rococo beams.
His epidermis grayed in distress. Hers oozed a passion for style.

She decided to go monochrome and donned black and white feathers
over satiny silk in a vision of a sea gull in a storm
with feathers waxed from longing and beating through the whipping rain
like the pain of one sick for her home.

Sherping along with a pile of new hides, he felt hunger sweeping his feet,
adding an extra ton to his load in the monochrome world of
one, shopping for new hides.

After she bought a sweet perfume, burning a hole in the purse,
he ordered Chinese. The chicken and noodles brought essential elements into
the microflora of their eternal metabo(tu)lism.

The egg-rolls were crunchy, like the wings of a sparrow
born out of recycled colors as the day faded out,
as the hides grew thicker.