Călin-Andrei Mihăilescu
Anonymous is none of us
Anonymous
is none of us
though we lose name
where we don’t lose face
in the bed sheets
where we don’t lose curves
through straits and gardens of oranges
through and through
the litany
the thaumaturgy
the exhaustion
of limbs playing snakes to each other
each drop time gained and
pushed from mouth
to mouth like stars a pearl an Edelweiss
anonymous
is none of us
***
Don’t shout, dad, I can’t hear you
I can hear only whispers
the princess said in a badly translated Arabic
but given how many got crucified in Hollywood
why should she get special treats?
or my ears, voracious like the crocks?
Or the exerchist making fun of wars’ blood?
I am the pharmacy, your Highness
I came to ask for you daughter’s whisper
Pactriotism
It’s done: you don’t remember what
grand-grandpa ate or loved or saw
so you can’t think thoughts of the past
– it would be ghostly ghastly, meek –
instead you take the syringe there
a bunch of them to quick-inject
you own into the cemetery,
then dig them up, eyebrows high up,
and warn the kids that if the touch
the banner on the hill, will grow
the boner in the ground, the cause
of which you are the haughty effect
your innate ghost return to grandpa’s not
the fatherland’s the solitude of many
against the loneliness of each,
fracking for symmetry man eats another
showman while women birth amok
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