Molim te.

Daj mi kisele jabuke i limun. There is something to be said here

about deity in burning sugar. Violet flame against

steel to sweeten. And if hours were to still

within the tiled room, how easy is it

to break a day with screaming crickets calling

from behind each turning step. Am I wrong to watch

your bloated hands struggle against the hilt as the

blade cuts through flesh. Sada gledaj dok

radim. Should we watch those hands meet and

part like a moving flock visit us throughout the year

we would not move past November. There is a dream

and in it I will not move away from here. I will not leave this place

from your left and we will watch the apples

soften in the pot together. Walnuts will fall into the flame

and there will be no more pot. There are no more apples. There are only

walnuts catching fire and we will watch. If the smoke rises

above us to tell secrets you will wave it away. You will say

ne mogu slušat bezvesnje stvari and I will not wonder if the flames

are too high. We are dry now there is no wet left on

my cheek and you say gledaj so I do. It does not need to catch us

because we do not hide and you say uzmi so it does. The walnuts

are on fire. The kitchen is on fire. The crickets

are on fire.

November is on fire.

We are

                                                                                      on fire.
dust to dust.