Public Republic

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,
impeccable
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