Cristina Boncea

the boot nailed into the chest

in the xenon beams, you travel miles propelled by tears
with Fortuna holding your hand
a three-hundred-year-old curse

you always look disillusioned, demonetized
at the plexiglass between you.

you no longer descend into the cavern
after bugs the bunny, you laugh maniacally when the fire
flickers closer to your cheek.

perhaps the horns were part of the package.
package delivered.
please rate our services.

you won’t renovate the linguistic cemetery, not even enough for us to see again
creative boomerangs, trust in intellectuals
you have something
that belongs to the collective. transverse stripes
trap you in false optimism

fir trees fill with ornaments, domesticated.

the in between

it breaks my spine
i see myself falling to my knees, spitting blood
the nettles my grandmother picked with her bare hands
you leave me here, suspended
as if in a shop window. you think you’ll retrieve me the same way
when you want to bring me back between
the lines of your palm.

the tea boils over, down the sides
valerian runs
staining the stove. ballerinas take their solemn sleep,
they always wake up beautiful.

i wish you wouldn’t come back from your getaway

stay kind and romantic, the nineteenth-century man
i hear my voice better in the abandoned house
all mine. sometimes the ballerinas
blink in bewilderment
when the sun rises.

until the lady sings

the fire alarm. people were losing meaning, but not the opportunity
you recite your lines louder, softer
until someone pulls your plug.

nothing ever ends exactly on time, not even when gioni bravo reaches out
for a heineken, romania loses to turkey again, only the braids burn
when they light you like a kent. you sing about trailer parks, NYC blondes,
the unsolved mysteries of shut up, you, a dozen american dreams in a makeshift body.

like the contemporary romanian poet, nothing but the VAT of you.

the motherland is the mother accused of immoral behavior.
the diagnosis of diabetes mellitus will be established on the basis of at least
two elevated values.

---

Originally published in Romanian in MARTA as the poetry selection “numai TVA-ul de tine”. Translated into English by the author.