A turned round portrait

Сергей Муценко Избранное
Your eyelashes
Grew grey
In the marble cradle

A predator opened the door
With a grin of Faust
After the murder

In the hall
Filled with
Saliva of images
In the fish’s belly

Your eyes
     Grew grey

The voice of the prophet
Still resounding
     In the snake

The labyrinth taken
Out of an ear
Unfolded
Like a virgin
Forcibly
During the wedding night

I could see mirrors
Entering one another
And then only
Nakedness

Your shoulders
     Grew grey

The wave was battering
With all its force
Into the gloomy bough
In which a passer-by
Was swallowing scarily
The milky fire of the flesh
Not to scream
In the hours
          Minutes
               Enlightenment

In which
Your lips
Grew grey


***  ***


© Copyright: Сергей Муценко Избранное, 2025
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