I Wrote a Good Omelet, Nikki Giovanni

[madamevoilanska.livejournal.com]

I wrote a good omelet...and ate
a hot poem... after loving you

Buttoned my car...and drove my
coat home...in the rain...
after loving you


I goed on red...and stopped on
green...floating somewhere in between...
being here and being there...
after loving you


I rolled my bed...turned down
my hair...slightly
confused but...I don't care...


Laid out my teeth...and gargled my
gown...then I stood
...and laid me down...


To sleep...
after loving you

Anna Swir, "The First Madrigal"

[the-grynne.livejournal.com]

THE FIRST MADRIGAL

That night of love was pure
as an antique musical instrument
and the air around it.

Rich
as a ceremony of coronation.
It was fleshy as the belly of a woman in labor
and spiritual
as a number.

It was only a moment of life
and it wanted to be a conclusion drawn from life.
By dying
it wanted to comprehend the principle of the world.

That night of love
had ambitions.


ANNA SWIR

Translated from the Polish by Czesław Miłosz and Leonard Nathan