Tag Archives: Lucia Cherciu

Lucia Cherciu

Clenched Teeth

At Gara de Nord
the children of the streets
earn their supper
and cash for glue,
their faces turning
first grey, then blue,

hiding their induced reveries
in the cavities of the Metro,
catacombs of loneliness
and fights among
empty bottles of Pepsi,
blankets of cardboard boxes,
an orange jacket
forgotten on the train.

Lucia Cherciu writes both in English and in Romanian, and her new book of poetry, Edible Flowers, is available from Main Street Rag.

Lucia Cherciu

Aunt Maria’s Orchard

She treaded through the village
and up the hill
carrying on her back
a young plum tree,

the fragile, elastic branches
getting into her long, black hair
and pulling at it,
tossing it out
from under her scarf.

Lucia Cherciu writes both in English and in Romanian, and her new book of poetry, Edible Flowers, is available from Main Street Rag.