Danijela Trajković writes

Abducted

it was night when they abducted me
I didn't see their faces
they tied my eyes
put me on the operating table
separated my soul from my body

all the blood ran out
they said were going to throw it
in the Red Sea
not to leave any trace

then they buried my soul
in some cemetery

my pale body now attracts many men
I hear from the conversations dogs and birds
who are fed at the cemetery have

sometimes I hear your steps as well
your voice
you pass along an unmarked grave
just say you're too far away 
and continue walking 

The Agnew Clinic -- Thomas Eakins

Danijela Trajković writes

¿Dónde está tu alma?

In a dream where you feel her presence?

In a glass of margarita on a barbecue at your friend’s

Or in a glass of wine in a vineyard?

In the middle of nowhere

When your car is broken for the first time

And you meet Texas hunters

And think it would be good for her if she were there, too?

In the office when you do your work?

In the café while writing an essay and sending her

A photo of your notebook with verses and your widespread legs?

In the car when listening to Serbian music?

In the video with rain?

In Luna that looks for your eyes every night?

In the restaurant while having lunch with a friend from Spain?

In the plate of your dinner?

In the message at the messenger at four in the morning?

In the smile that looks at her at your exhibition?

In the YouTube song you send?

In the poem you write for her?

¿Dónde…………………………………………..

……………….está tu alma……………………..

................................................................mi alma!?

[Where is your soul? / Where is my soul?] 

The Soul of the Rose -- John William Waterhouse

Đorđe D. Sibinović writes

Conspiracy

I found out

from confidential

sources

that the writers in heaven

in secret

change their written

books

and at night

lay them on

library shelves

instead of the old

versions...

new generation

readers do not know

originals

the old ones

do not read for the second time...

I read

fitzgerald

and realized that

nights are no longer

mild

and that dick diver

did’t

marry

nicole ...

--tr. Danijela Trajković

Saint Jean Cap-Ferrat -- Marc Chagall