Amphora

Tiny flight noticed while examining flaky bark of a eucalypt

​

Since the clover carpet is greener in this particular light

and the bright buttercups on thin stalks attached

to the earth in some co-existence we know nothing 

about, just as the shiny black dots on red of the ladybird, 

which I count and they probably see me, on wings 

as small and significant as notes on flight scribbled 

in my gorgeous notebook, I take a deep breath, 

and another. I could have been stung by a bee 

but that hasn’t happened.

 

 

 

 

Monster Silence

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The pink-eyed rabbit is eating snow, eating snow. One day a swallow dropped dead at this very spot. A little aeroplane with a stone in its heart. The pith. There is cruelty in this setting, a hunter with a Swiss army knife, and no music. When they call him it’s always the same ringtone:  monster silence.

 

 

 

The Baker

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I keep three sacks of flour in the pantry and my white hands leave a trail everywhere. Once I found a dead mouse under her skirt while she licked her fingers of butter and croissant. Our love was oily, powdery. At 3 in the morning my dreams smelled of fresh bread and her lips were a specialty. I kneaded and I needed, it was true. Until that girl walked in one day, smiling like a cherry.

Oh, love, oh, lust.

Oh, love, oh, lust.

 

Bio: 

Nora Nadjarian is a Cypriot poet and writer who has been published internationally. Placed or commended in numerous competitions, she recently won the Anthropocene Valentine’s Day Poetry Competition 2022. She has work forthcoming from Broken Sleep books and Poetry International.