Anti-Story / Anti-Storiella / Anti-Poveste

valeriu dg barbu

Trilingual text


Just for one moment
I saw a strange world around the supposedly ordinary one
Here, every person had one longer arm, leg, cheek, nostril
Asymmetries torn with a round pain, glassy budding, stones incrusted in skin
and musical instruments grown from their indigo-golden flesh
their exchange currency was the smile
And they fed on vibrations from touches, they would die becoming color stains
The moment tilting on one side, twisting like a spring –
At one end was holding tight one of the multitude of precarious Me
projected by customs halved rays
In the middle of the presumably ordinary world, the smile came free, flesh came free,
but for every color, one had to pay with stones and
only those on the other side had them
I reached out my hand and ever since
I’ve been having my first pain, not enough round but so clever

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