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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 80-81 | volume XIV | September-December, 2011



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 80-81September-December, 2011
Poetry

I Have a Word

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p. 1
Boris Domagoj Biletić

A Grave below the Hilltop
My Locked Father
Misty Little Poem
In Lithuanian Dreams They Visit Me
The Empty Quarnero Sea
Rhetorical Poem

_______________________________________________________________________

A Grave below the Hilltop
/diptych/

That gentle February the marble was warm
Was it from the tears of my sisters and mine halted
Somewhere in the air shimmering in the southern sun

Father already distant, all in memories,
Addressed to travelling, the Remainder of his life
Aware only of the finality of his words:
This is the last time I come to see her.

The Alternatives already gloat because I confess:
The hands on the dial of his clock stopped a moment
Like a bird that flies into the space of childhood
With flower in beak after the departure of the woman
Of his life, the Woman, who on her death bed
I saw had that third eye opened

. . .

Frozen winter evenings in the Pula graveyard
Below the myriad smiling extinguished stars
With love crazed conditions embraced approach in proud
Ritual intimation, She whose dearest rests here
And he uprooted among so many departures

The heart’s a cenotaph, the heart’s a private monolith crumbling:
Wherever I turn, whatever I touch, all stone

(Graham McMaster, “The Bridge”, Zagreb, 2004.)


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