Poetry in the mesibdzer was awarded in Romania
You are all my joy.
I guess you know you’re mine,
I wish you good morning always.
You smell of bread this morning,
And aluminum pan casks.
Fists slippery from grease and sticky from dough
They are embedded in my skin like a glutton on a celebrity cake
My braids are your hands
They get involved with me all over,
You shape your bun while bending me,
You make me like pretzels
You make me what I am not.
Take me in as a noodle,
Crowd as a crowd,
Speak like a burned out corner of Zhitopek’s veneer
Greased with grease and olive pepper.
Remember the taste of childhood …
It is so easy to nap when you land on the old couch
Tired of poetry vigil …
How you remind me of my childhood and grandfather Milutin’s bakery
Grandpa tired of mixing bread at night
While he naps … when it’s not his bedtime.
The smell of freshly baked bread
She reminds me of Grandpa and You.