Fat balloons of silent screams,
men with faces of kids
walk up and down the streets
on cotton limbs.
Stepping on eggshells, it seems
barefoot, on broken glass bits,
they look at a poster that forbids
compassion and similar schemes.
They read the books of Seneca’s letters
and letters, Roman, fall from the roofs
to exercise dart swift vendettas.
And little bloodstreams find grooves
to ease the flow. Eternal debtors,
men, think that everything improves.
Fat balloons of silent screams...
© Copyright: Борис Старосельский, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103010200226
Свидетельство о публикации №103010200226
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