Catch the bird, it’s already flown.

You have no wings, yours are hands 

Turned to crumpled paper thrown

Away that once was glass touching the lands

Called “His face.”

© 2014 Tajna Tanović. All Rights Reserved.

“Riot House” by Tajna Tanović in Myp Magazine

“Riot House” in Myp Magazine

Text & Photo: Tajna Tanović

In deserts nights away
I walk boardwalks fireworks have built
While the other coast’s ghosts play hide and seek me
The fruit of their fear on never-greens grows
Have I earned the love of bartender Jimmy or will he keep on screaming
when I start singing my song? Jimmy, the joker, Jimmy, the fool!
They dance no more, with yourself, for yourself you can only twist and turn so much
until you get dizzy, fall out of circle, lose your way and
pollinate no more, for you are intoxicated, for you are alone, for you dance for no one
The suburban sounds of this city tell me somewhere someone is loved despite everything
Tired of collecting receipts for things she never received
Tired of waiting for the car to stop running, her eyes framed by pencil
sketched brows riot, her family still crossing over the fence. The house
They’ll never stop drinking
Her eyes say all you fail to, her skin is dusk
Tonight seems convenient for you to let your ghosts loose, those hounds catch me
every time, so I stopped running and now I greet them with bone in hand,
until the last hair on the back of my neck stands and bows
Still someone thinks of me
Like in the eyes of some childless mothers they don’t remember your name
You picked me up, now spit me out
numen
intimus

© 2014 Tajna Tanović. All Rights Reserved.