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inspiration is nothing compared to the long
road        : revelation     each mouth speaking
another language
give me more time     more space
the glamour
of the day:
I'll be there light as a feather      we
the only birds buried
in flight


who is the ghost whose steps are      a guitar
remember the place the crowd the spring a body
looking for you o, the story
never unfolded
music still hurts I am so loud calling your name
it happened to be sunday—
sunday like an old song


the slaughter house still exists    : on the hill
a hawk like a thought
of dull eternity—
slavery of light     I am meant
to survive
the shock of one tooth against another grinding
could you come closer
to this spot
of bloody encounter


you said bring me a drop of water
in your palm
the thirst the thirsting of the earth
the red umbrella on the beach
in images of sounds          a tiny
swallow just flew
over my head            I am happy
and don’t know what happiness
children as ever
nothing changes in the changing
of clouds
I brought you the sea
you wouldn’t drink it but drowned


what took so long to open this window
and look outside
the sea under your feet
houses torn down the past the king the rat such
like a vulture like a child they flew out of sight
the well crafted things
of the world—
blackbirds are another story they stay late
and sing
softness from forgotten souls       have you
seen on the kitchen table the knife
and then the rain
washing away my wings & my hair

Stella Vinitchi Radulescu

Stella Vinitchi Radulescu writes poetry in three languages and has published numerous collections of poetry in the United States, France, and Romania. Her latest book, I Scrape the Window of Nothingness: New & Selected Poems, was published this month by Orison Books.