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18 Slobodan’s Predawn Letter to Mirjana No new moons for months now And nothing flows but noise of you Battering silent air sheets in the distance. And if I were to throw my screams A thousand times inside a broken breeze I still would not reach you. Once, I thought I had: Your mouth opened, And a stream of words Came in familiar rhythms, But disappeared Before I could write them. I have tried to recapture so much of you— The flesh we once felt The sound of hungry birds Pecking at the window feeder, but In this state of captured days, Only fragments in which your words scattered Remain. It’s not so much I need to gather Or unite them, as that they now reside In so many corridors of thought. The doors, when opened, Reveal much more than an image 19 Of countless rats trapped. And, when I’m restless Dazed from their ramblings, They escape to topple the crown: They come always at this hour For they know I cannot defend my back Glued by their legs to my bed I cannot move As they claw closer with breath Feeding teeth to my ears And eating all the silence I need to forget. ...

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