poetry, proza

Slavery in Serbia, from the perspective of a Serbian’ resident alien, Leila Trajkovic Samarrai

A kindness died away between the pillars of
a strange home, a distant domicile in someone else’s garden
there is plenty of foul language and malice here and there, and I’m tired
I am so… rectum-rapingly worn out under
the sky
the bird
the overshadowed fowl
this ruinous world, mine as of late
you expatriated me into the living pasture
you expatriated me out the gates of Hell
to serve as a maidservant faithful to the earth laden with the mites of May

To those who expelled me to my pasturage
to those within cruelty’s sphinctery grip
in waterfalls that grow in the morning sunlight
in yesterday’s paradise
in the freshness of Day



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