BONES Poem by Miroslav Mićanović

Summer starts
when deaf-mute Đurica
comes into the garden.

He speaks with his fingers:
a star, a somersault,
a handstand, salute
the sun.

Every morning he opens
a schoolbook of summer. Mute body
of text.

Joy was granted
on the threshold.

Something loud?
Someone spoke?

Emptiness fills up
pages between the lines.
Letters are signs for dead and
abandoned places.

If you ask mother:
is deaf-mute Đurica still alive?
she will answer black soil
cover his bones now.

Something loud?
Someone spoke?

Louder than words.

Then summer.
Then death.