Intimnost

Smolasta prašina
gusta kao meso
lepi se za šake

Uvlačim u rukave
sluzave prste
jezim se do peta

Pojavljuju se ruke
u istom prostoru
tople kao krv

Eden me prožima
klizi niz vrat
i kvasi poruke

Rasterane čestice prašine
nestaju u gasu
kiseonik je ukusan

Nedaleko od tišine
crveni se nebo
prislonio sam dlanove

Ogromna svetlost
prošla mi je kroz oči
dodiri podrhtavaju

Vene pulsiraju
znaci su odleteli
u tri tačke na krugu

Agonija me umotava
implodiram u trenu
prelazim u senu.

Đorđe Aćimović


Published: 19.08.2008.
Classified as: Poezija
Comments: 0
Author:

Discussion: Total 0 Response

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

  • Follow Tragovi

    • Facebook
    • RSS

    Do you write poetry?

    Send your poetry to tragovi.blog[at]gmail.com
    Successful entries will be published.