Lace on the Haystack
The bride wore the sweet smell of acacia
Like royal robes, with dignity.
The summer was sleeping in her copper curls
The honey was melting on her tongue.
Her breath—a healing whiff,
Her eyes—crystal vials
I wanted to memorize you
Cutting red jalapeños
On the kitchen board.
The spirit always conquers the flesh
It’s the charming chrysanthemums
In your lap
That will make me panicked tomorrow.
If you lick your wounded finger today,
Your blood will clasp my throat,
My saliva will heal your pain.
Vyarka Kozareva lives in Bulgaria. Her work has appeared in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Ariel Chart, Poetry Pacific, Basset Hound Press, Bosphorus Review of Books, Mad Swirl, Ann Arbor Review, Fevers Of The Mind, Juste Milieu Lit, Trouvaille Review, Aberration Labyrinth, Triggerfish Critical Review, Sampsonia Way Magazine, and Synchronized Chaos Magazine.