Sunday, June 8, 2014

Two poems by Romana Iorga

Poem for a Green Bottle and a Candle Held Together with Tape

Who has ever seen darkness
glowing from inside?  
Glass giving in to flame?  Who
has ever seen my reflection
in the green waves?
Wax drips on cold, sinuous
curves.             This is not
one of Magritte’s bottles,
lined up for execution.
Its candle doesn’t burn
for a dead or lost soul.
It’s a simple green bottle.  
I am simple and green.
It holds its fruit that will slowly
die out.  I hold mine
that is quickly growing.
It’s strange how beauty
can be put together
with a piece of tape.
Behind the glass wall,
the homunculus spins
faster and faster.


I open my window
for the skeleton of the night.
The darkness breathes.
It is dense like oil.
From afar you call me again,
waiting to see how soon,
how close I will come,
how unbearably sweet my mouth
will bite your neck under
the open collar.
Each morning I wake with blood
stuck to my lips.
The skies are loud.
Hoarse, raucous sounds
choke on themselves,
burn their way
through the night.
Birds fall on the ground
with their breastbones shattered.
My wings are high and wet,
newly born, my eyes—
yellow, wise.
Tonight I might fly higher
than recommended.

Author bio: 

Romana Iorga is a Romanian-American writer living in Virginia.  She has previously published two collections of poetry in her native language,  is a graduate of the University of Minnesota creative writing program and is currently teaching high school English at Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology.

No comments: