Vasko Popa’s hair
is silver
Serbian & wolfish
his eyes
Croation crow-black
and
yet
his gaze is soft as
mud’s forgivness
Vasko’s suit is
in tatters
war-torn
and
yet
glimmering grace
Vasko has
in his left hand
his little black box
and
Vasko just this
minute has
let
one
of his teardrops
fall
into the little box’s
black insides
and
now
from within
from within this
whole world
boxed
there rises up
momentarily a
tiny noise
like an abrupt
muffled
duck’s
quack
this squlp is
the sound
of orange
-haired and
thirsty Donald
swallowing
the Earth’s salt
.
Mark Goodwin
.