A woman who has no house



All my life I have lived in fear of being thrown out

Of the house, in the dead of night, in the golden days

Of August, while my breasts were growing

As I gather my hair from the sink

I hid from my father in the attic

And smoked his cigars, and chicks I

Pushed between the tiles

I’d stay upstairs for a day or two

Then I would come down when I run out of everything

And he would meet me at the door

Grinning, extinguished in the face

You came to me again, didn’t you, he would say

And I listened to the pretzel pot squeak

In the kitchen, full of penance, for the bed

For vague dreams, for a spoon

And my first husband

In every quarrel he knew how to say

Get the hell out, whine to someone else

And after seven years of marriage

I returned to my father again

I have traversed the empty roads of this country,

bowed heads

And my father asked me: How long do you plan on staying?

And not long after, I broke away from my father again

My second husband maintains grass in cemeteries

People say he’s crazy, they make fun of him

And that’s why he comes home sullen

And he doesn’t look at our child

And torment me that the velvets on the balcony are frayed

Although they are not

He grabbed me by the head like a velvet rosary

And dragged me to the entrance

I pushed the front door with my feet, begging him

Just don’t throw me out

I’ll do whatever you say

just don’t thrown me out of the house, I told him

Although I’ve already seen the road and some other leisure

Modified very much, but the same again





Naida Mujkic

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