Poetry by Diana Geacăr

Zoom out and enjoy the view

Is that you? I ask when I feel two hands

grasping my hips as I carry the food bags.

How did you find me, God? Did you follow the strong smell

of insecurity? Spring is the best camouflage. I'm

standing still, walking back home, for you to have me

measured for a new meat costume. Small and fast like 

your packets of light energy. Your palms climb softly on 

my back. Pieces of hardened snow brake from the roof



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