within me

właśnie tak…

in heart

fot. A. Bober

Halina Poświatowska

the body of my garden

woven from the living and painful branches

cries at night

recalling the down of birds’ wings

the moon’s face wet among the leaves

it peers into a nest full of absence

the green fingers quiver

clenched in the throat of the wind


the seeing fingers dance

on black and white keys

I greet them with my breath

with my hand I touch the lips

with my smile I bring to life

the colors and I use the most beautiful of them

to write in red blood: myself


fot. A. Bober

Halina Poświatowska

aware of myself

smiling to myself

in winter’s nutshell


a squirrel’s fur


underwent assumption into heaven up a tree trunk


am not

more than a tree branch

less than a little paw

of a fallow squirrel


being me to myself

excluding the world

which being rained-on

enters twilight

.fot. A. Bober