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He Lives

August 9, 2009 by · No comments

Kristin Dimitrova

Photo: striatic

It has been years since
my disgusting suitor
stopped calling.
He used to invade my dreams,
sometimes holding my hand,
pouring his meanness into me.

He had an impeccable
black suit,
white hands
and four eyes.
Yesterday a friend said:
“I dreamed I was in a fire
and a few yards away
a four-eyed man
was watching me.”

I know him, I said.
I know him, I said.
I know him, I said.
He is dreadful.

Hey, who are you, Four-eyes?
Here I come, falling asleep.

Translated into English by Gregory O’Donoghue

Categories: Frontpage · poetry


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