After the process… By Helena Santic Isakov, translated with Charles Elffers

I am not interested in wars

and convicts;

or daily reports about deaths.

I am telling you that is not true,

when the game is in the spin

like the earth,

which still rotates.

The truth is in the trousers,

Mona Lisa’s impure blood,

in a damned courtyard

after the Dervish and Rascolnicov’s deaths

like a process in the game

of glass beads.

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