by Trevor Landers

At Novomesty Pipac, 2eme etage

a body of water is traversed

sheer skim shimmers

like the shoulder of a lake

teased by the sun's inveiglement

waves playfully lapping her feet

the crinkled satin

of a body caressed

this is land

not to be tradueced;

skinswimming; swirling

embossed Slovak eyes

set in a sadly, saturine face

she is iridium

even when she frowns.

--It is palpably unfair--

the sun in her room

is salt in a supperating wound; annealing

she takes my arm

and with a simple unencumbered kiss

'Prosim'

national borders are redrawn.

arms are interosculated

on a floor

on an astrakhan rug

asperging my

face with her

holy water

and there is stamp

in a passport.