The Mountains

Every night

I was moving mountains

And in the morning I'd find them back in place

Boulders and rocks

Crushing my chest

Gravel and mud

Filling my mouth

Vultures and snakes

Coiling around my orbit

With a grinding of a key

In doors without a lock.

Until one day, when

I dug myself a grave

At the foot of the mountains

In the murmur of the waters

And

Like the dynamite I am

I filled it with gunpowder.

Since then, since then

The mountains, the mountains

Are vast, vast.

Anca Stanciu