Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu

Another Boundary

the old men left 
the young hearts boundaries 
stones broke out from their roots 
like a dry bread split on the knees 
 
the dough didn’t raise anymore 
under the hand stitched towel 
brick dust is sifted slowly
on a spider’s nest 
in the bread oven’s window 
 
next winter will pass quickly 
everything will freeze under cold chimneys 
like in a dry ant mole 
cut with a scythe 
 
only in March when the earth 
will germinate its fangs
the house vineyard will cry 
with cold sweat in each new shoot 
 
at Easter all great grandchildren 
barely having learned to walk  
will step over dandelion flowers 
burning in the yard 
lightly and without traces

© 2013 Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu

Autumn Crocus

each night I’m running 
through a nightmare transgressing 
into pink and purple 
since springtime until fall 
 
from my lost body 
drifting in the labyrinth 
between suns 
my viscera are good enough 
only for the sacrificial knife 
predicting a future 
like a nebulous placenta 
from leaves skeletons 
 
my chest is full of stars 
empty of pain and blood 
a moon plaster squeezes 
my hardened heart 
when I will fall in the dust 
a crater will be left above 
and not a single thistle below 
 
my God please dress me up 
in silvery voices of angels 
I’ll be a capsized bell 
with its brim towards the sky

 © 2013 Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu

The Last Olive Tree

    - grabby man, why do you have such empty eyes?
    - it is not true child 
      look deep and you will see 
      crystal fish beneath the well’s gravel 
      unimparted secrets 
      where neither thieves’ hoe sliced 
      nor master’s bucket stole 
 
    - man you are like thistle’s flower 
      no one tastes you 
      apart from grizzled goats 
    - the sun is blinding you my child 
      otherwise you would have known 
      that I made a vow long ago 
      to grow upon a land that doesn’t tremble 
      forever on the tongue of truth 
      to keep silent 
      until the stars will fall down 
      all under my temples 
      until the fools will forget laughter and crying 
 
      you will hold my hand 
      a branch bowing in the wind 
      with a knife made of bone 
      you will cut me at sunrise

© 2013 Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu

Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu is a Romanian poet who also translates her works in English. Her poems and haiku were published in three Romanian poetry journals, in the Indian poetry journals Conifers Call and Bizz Buzz, in a Romanian haiku anthology, a bilingual haiga anthology, a poetry anthology in Romania and in Wordgathering. Her works also appeared in Ploc!, Asahi Shimbun, Sketchbook, the Romanian magazine Haiku, Notes from the Gean, Multiverses, Daily Haiga, Ardea and Mainichi Daily News. Her blog can be found here: http://cristinamonicamoldoveanu.wordpress.com

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