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Writer's pictureRuina

Field Marshal (a poem)


Just out of thin air

Puncture, fracture, iron strikes

Pummeling the surface of countries and anthems

Cut the meat and torsos until all hearts are tender

The painful plates cannot fit together

Pieces of armor fall


///


I heard someone’s hardened eyes

Make shocking sounds in the depths of soul

Saw hundreds of pairs of standing ears

Waiting, motionless , silent and secluded

The snowy path to the city does not remember our oath

That same road yet ten million kinds of ruins

Crossing horizontal in the realm of death

With the serenity of snakes and scorpions

You’re the sole survivor, somehow.


///


That temptation is not

Bearable to lives with hot blood within

Regardless of the connotation

Watching flags spread out against the wind and sand

Like empty caresses across lover’s chest and curves

Red ribbons roll down your long legs, pressed upon skin and hair

Black cowhide tightens at your bare ankles

A sight that drives me mad.


///


The perfect corpses have lost their celestial coordinates

The riddle’s a hidden door

Not a closed coffin.

Tow an abandoned tank, teach it feudal superstitions

Whereas in the distance

Countless sky explosions embrace a sleeping cat.


///


Loneliness did not overwhelm the nameless capital

This time it is you who come to surrender

with the dignity of worlds at war

Too much love, falsehood abound

It’s about the same as muffled orgasms in the night.


///


Never-ending encirclement, nothing is ever forgotten

About slender fingers

the long queues at the beginning of the last century

Of old injuries that are nonchalant

Of gentle nipples under an uniform

Leather boots and thin waists


the bearers of perjury.


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