this is my city, all mine.
the houses, transparent, have no doors
and i see myself inside them all.
i walk down the streets, the streets are alive,
they change shape, keep taking me
somewhere else.
i come to a bridge: the other bank doesn’t exist,
there’s nothing beyond the bridge.
i’m looking for the church, i can’t find it —
the church is liquid and it flows.
a few dogs are running towards the still-bleeding,
still-beating, heart of an angel.
it’s neither day nor night —
there’s only the fascinating ray of death, shining.
a huge word is hurled from the skies,
smashes us to pieces
me and my city.

**Gabriel Chifu