oh by bára hladíková

oh
 
my insides
moved to a new city
where fountains burst into cement
 
my insides are on a time-change, i’m lagged
the architecture is beautiful, my insides say
 
i don’t understand the culture
or the street signs,
i reply
 
oh
 
you
are the new city
 
i’m not into this city, and no
i can’t walk through walls, i’ve tried
 
and most of the time windows
keep you indoors
 
so maybe
 
i’ll change the buildings
that hang from the sky into curtains
 
you aren’t even a body you are
a hallway of mirrors
 
you are a backdrop
a staged room
 
to fool me
to trust
you
 
oh
 
you
bring me
to a room
 
we hang our skin
across from each other
 
lay my organs in the closet
as knotted stockings
 
pour your blood
on the bed as
a duvet
 
oh
 
we look
out the window
at the buildings that hang from the sky
 
at cities where water rushes upwards
and buildings blow in the wind
 
we crawl out the window
and grope the tapestry
 
we coil fingers
knot histories
 
and oh this
new city
oh 

✱✱✱

Bára Hladíková fries a fine yam and lives on the Salish Sea. Her work has been published by Be About It Press, The Garden Statuary, and The Liar. She tweets as @mmelouloupines and co-founded First Cold Press.