Cosmetics / Y. Bilchinsky

Cosmic stingray reaches,

but the farthest minds are incomplete.

Ensconced like lions in a den,

enclosed like Snow White envelopes.

The letterhead reached it’s zenith,

The clock’s melting fast in the sun.

Ara- Aramaic forgiveness

The desert is there, here there’s none.

And nothing’s complete without ending

the shadows flow into the light.

Our city besieged, and I swear that

The arrows have pierced through the heart.

The work incomplete on the table,

the manuscript rotting with age.

The candlestick lit and flaming

silently speaking to us.