by
Claudia Serea
You hide in speech,
In language,
And I search for you
In tongues.
You hide behind words,
And I turn every stone.
You hide in your head,
And I look for you in the heart,
Under the wing of a bird.
I ask the clouds
<em>Did you see him?</em>
And they shrug
Shoulders of rain.
I ask the trees
<em>Are you hiding my lover?</em>
And they point
The wrong way.
I ask the sea
<em>Where is my sweet one?</em>
And the sea mumbles and foams
A mouthful of waves.
And when I find you,
It’s your turn to count,
And my turn to hide
Under my tongue,
Behind words,
Eyebrows, bushes,
Thorns.
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<td><a href="http://southernpacificreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/csera.jpg"><img src="http://southernpacificreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/csera.jpg" alt="" height="150" /></a></td>
<td><em>Claudia Serea is a Romanian-born poet who immigrated to the U.S. in 1995. Her poems and translations have appeared in 5 a.m., Meridian, Harpur Palate, Word Riot, The Red Wheelbarrow, Cutthroat, Green Mountains Review, and many others. She is the author of The System (Cold Hub Press, New Zealand), Angels & Beasts (Phoenicia Publishing, Canada), and A Dirt Road Hangs from the Sky (8th House Publishing, Canada).
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