Tonight, we’ve solved the dilemma about the murder
Of an innocent child for the sake of saving humanity!
In the name of art, we have executed countless people and, finally,
And we lived and lunged at each other like dogs so that the lives of others
Would have more color
So let them enjoy your plays
And let them read my poems
And let them know
That they are sprinkled with blood and tears
Covered with sweat-stained sheets
Which I changed
So that someone could applaud us
Someone who saw neither your veins
Tell me what it is you’re writing down
Can I just have a peek
Inside your little black notebook
No, that would be unethical
Doctor, I paid for it
Do I blame my mother for everything while she pays for my treatment?
I’ve been feeling much better since I started using echinacea, thanks for asking!
Excuse me, elicea!
I can neither sleep nor fuck
But that’s ok, my boyfriend thinks I’ve been done enough fucking.
Doctor, let me see what you’re writing down
Did you give me an F?
Two fingers test
Is it that I have rage attacks
And refuse to have kids?
You’re writing about how I’m deluding myself!
I blame my mother for my bad relationships
For which I blame my
For which I blame
The air raids!
I try to find an excuse
In my childhood.
You’re writing about how I’m idealizing
The narcissistic personality type
Prone to using recreational drugs
Because she’s got
Rock ‘n’ roll in her moves!
What you’re writing down in your little black notebook.
I paid for it!
(with my mother’s money, true)
I’m such a materialist, right?
Or a penny-pincher?
But doctor, there’s just the two of us and I have no income
And I have no job!
I don’t even want to have a job!
All day long, I sit and read, and sometimes I write
I’m so lazy, right? Is that what you’re writing down?
I put the dishes in the dishwasher
Not suicidal enough
Do es not to le rate
I got it right, I know.
I beg you
Yes, next Wednesday at 11!
(in the little notebook).
this is my grave
i got buried in it by
girls with big asses and short legs
good-looking middle-aged women
one morning in the park
two bottles of gin
the fifth hair bleaching
the fourth snake
the two-day fever
a few shows
a couple of doctors
and a comfy sofa.
you are closer to me than zagreb is
and zagreb is a magical word
and as if this weren’t reality
you live on the border
i’m closer to you than zagreb is
i’m in the sacred white city
and through the window, i often
gaze towards the border
there, it is always war
full of blood tears and sweat
just like when you’re giving birth
on the border, closer than zagreb
i’m closer to you than zagreb is
but it only matters to me.
just the same, i could
live right there in your street
Milica Špadijer (1989): born two days after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and she lives her life accordingly. She graduated from the Belgrade Grammar School of Philology and she got her bachelor’s and master’s degrees at the Classical Studies Department of the Faculty of Philosophy, and she is currently working on her doctoral dissertation at the Faculty of Dramatic Arts. She works as a journalist, translates from Greek, teaches Greek and Latin, and writes for several online news websites.
Translator Filip Čolović (1995) – born in Belgrade, he is currently finishing his undergraduate studies at the Faculty of Philology of the University of Belgrade (English Department). At the moment, he works as a content writer and translator. Appreciates the avant-garde and all forms of quality art and fiction.