Therapy
After my mother
gave birth to my brother
she did not let my father
have sex with her anymore.
Instead, she preferred
to have her belly caressed with
a peacock's feather.
I still remember
how she used to laugh
and laugh…
and then cry.
Ode to birds
as a small child I was adopted by birds.
my foster parents lived in a tree hollow
and fed me and my siblings with mice.
as an adult I have a nine-to-five job,
live in a high-rise apartment
and feel lonely and cold.
even now, so many years later, I remember
how my bird-parents preened and stroked
my mane telling me how much they love me,
however different from them
I was.
every Christmas I write to Santa Claus
and ask for a sign from my bird-parents
but all that I’ve noticed
is feathers floating
through a hole in the ceiling.
Contamination
I remember the spring when I coughed up tulips. At first it was strange, even disturbing. People looked at me in amazement. Then, with time, it became something humdrum. Actually, I even managed to sell those tulips. Every Thursday a wholesaler would come and buy them in bulk. Later, I found out that when the tulips were placed in vases they immediately morphed into crows.
