I had to do it—all of a sudden I had to eat the stars. I was outside under the sky, drinking wine, eating bread-- But then, in the dark, I got things mixed up. I ate the stars. Just when they tried to whisper something to me.
Then it became even darker. And I was completely alone. Only the red drunken moon stayed with me. The empty bottle, too. And the pain and my tears and the night. But at least I was fed. My stomach was shining from the inside with dead time.
So What Now?
Old fossil is what you are deep inside the thin layer of rock
No sunshine, no wind, nothing
The flesh was all around you before A heart like a hammer
You will never escape your rocky prison just like us in our darkness
The chisels are at work under the sun
They are coming closer like moles We are still blind like that Can’t see the sun, can’t feel the wind, nothing
You can only wait like the stone that you are
We are digging our own graves
And very soon you will be out in the sunshine just to die twice
Do not curse our curiosity We are all made of stardust and dreams and destruction
Peycho Kanev is the author of 4 poetry collections and three chapbooks, published in the USA and Europe. His poems have appeared in many literary magazines, such as: Rattle, Poetry Quarterly, Evergreen Review, Front Porch Review, Off the Coast, The Adirondack Review, Sierra Nevada Review and many others. His new chapbook titled Under Half-Empty Heaven was published in 2018 by Grey Book Press.
