ANTONIA MIHĂILESCU is 20 years old student at University of Arts ”George Enescu” – Faculty of Theatre – Theater Directing Departament. Member of House of Poetry Light of ink. Organizer of Online Maraton of Poetry 2020 and SAD Festival 2020.
Death advanced search
When you are 19 years old you know everything. The city isn’t all right the cog wheels don’t work the way they are supposed to the flower beds incubate zombie pups// there comes a moment where fear puts all the rest in categories//you walk the road from your flat to the high-school the thoughts make monstrous bonds they mix and spread again like the kids of the flower girl in the corner they spread and the snow sun dance upon the windows// you search and search for death with a candle another song crashes upon the city wish you were here// who evades the painful blow who still searches for the poem
I don’t think it’s insomnia
The night is a day filtered through coffee. Through the window the sky bears ember stars// how is it to lose yourself through the moving bedsheets giant black and white screens dwarves feet that get the windmill ready// silence is like liquor little fears make their presence known the amount of life they can give to the body the amount of life can the soul contain like a house who’s walls are breaking down// sleep is not arriving you cannot reach it’s gates you learn the geography of the ceiling every spot where the paint fell like a falling star
Black Christmas
Snowflakes fall upon the gingerbread house. Every lit crack hides a story every oven from that crack is filled up to the brim with magical combinations of gingerbread men contemporary voodoo dolls that are easy to use//the first story is about cats and not really about mice the second story is about two guys from floor number two the two of them are decorating a Christmas tree and split a two person bed in two//the third story is about a glass grandma that bakes an eye on the window and one in the oven from dusk till dawn the forth story is about the kid from the fourth floor that wants to become a sailor his parents swim for him through dry waters people fight for him with oranges why does nobody fight for RC cars// the fifth story is hiding under the skirt sneak your hand under look how the snowflakes fall
Social anxiety
From the yellow ceiling boom boom. Electro music a party with commercial lights over the raving fishnet-wearing hands and Britney- they are doing it on the pouches for real this time// the floor is a mix of macarons// yellow vests form a row in the back of the cutout advertisement a whore sits in the queue for the flower baskets
Quanta
You count 10 sheep on the field. Hidden under your thorax (inhale exhale pain)// the hair that you just washed with the shampoo from the TV during the last night’s movie break after a week of half smoked cigarettes messy hair and stripes on the pillow and torn agendas lipstick marks on your teeth// you and the mirror are every night full of scars in which the dreams are revitalized on the spot (inhale exhale pleasure)// you contemplate the painted walls your hands refusing to caress them you wait for the first quantum of energy that will bring him back you count 10 sheep on the field
Translated by Rareș Rotariu
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