Tag Archives: Joshua Berida

Petrichor

You come and go as you please I lock the door to make sure You don’t enter But you find the key Under the rug or Buried in the pot You come into my bedroom Sleep in my bed Wrap … Continue reading

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Sperrmüll

A friend told me Here in Germany When we want to get rid of old things We leave them outside It doesn’t matter how big or small the pile is Stacks of books Tolstoy, Tolkien, G. R. R. Martin Heirlooms, … Continue reading

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Gift

You gave me darkness, in the little things, doors left ajar, cabinets barely closed, clothes with dents of your fingertips. I try to remember the last time I saw you. Your brown eyes, your touch that splits oceans, your silence … Continue reading

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A View Above the Ruins

Naturally, the sun fell from the sky as the day unfolded. Little pieces of light left their scars on the ruins. There was Angkor Wat with the light’s right hand pulling it into darkness. There was nothing left but stories, … Continue reading

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Ruins

I wandered through the ruins of Ayutthaya, carefully measuring my steps to avoid knocking over the broken stones, withered walls, and headless statues. Careful. Measured. Steps. To keep the silences from making noise. I’d like to keep things the way … Continue reading

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Pictures

Black-and-White Dust gathers around the four corners of old boxes, wooden frames with markings that could not be read because the wind carved them with their wispy fingers. The attic seems empty, no objects to kill the spaces between the … Continue reading

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you don’t have a name

You are like the rain, With its small toes seeping through cracks and walls of spider web. Your grip sustains me like the way bees do with flowers. I feel your sweat drip through me holding rain between my body … Continue reading

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Molting

I remember the time I fit these old clothes, these familiar old skins. The armholes the size of tin cans. The clean white cotton hugging the creases of my body. I recognize the tree stump I used to play in … Continue reading

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Occupancy

I live in a flat where everything is put in first before things are taken. No need for boxes, we just open the door and let people in. They take what they want. They put in what they want. I … Continue reading

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Distance

I can only speak to you in a foreign language, with words that hold no meaning to me. I can describe to you a place made of raindrops that swell from the eyes of fish, swimming in a pool of … Continue reading

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