same old stories

grandma and grandpa live in the next-door room
before bedtime i crawl into their bed
and intently listen

the story always gets caught on the undergrowth
struggling like chestnut harvesters
through the muddy forest paths
beaten by the tracks of wild game
once again grandma speaks
of when drunk grandpa took the horses to town
and returned without them
of her brother who died during
a long-forgotten war
of a house whose wood evolved into bricks

it’s already getting dark
and the stories close along with eyelids
depriving the words of visual effects
the scent of freshly cut grass rushes in through the duvet
the mooing of thirsty cows out of the pillow

a fictitious dog is barking outside the window
as grandpa is coming

by foot

without the horse

iste priče

iste priče

u drugoj sobi stanuju baka i djed
prije spavanja uvlačim se u njihov krevet
i pažljivo slušam

priča uvijek zapinje u raslinju
probijajući se kao berba kestena
kroz blatne šumske putove
utabane tragovima divljači
baka opet govori
o djedu kad je pijan išao konjima u grad
i vratio se bez njih
o bratu koji je poginuo tijekom
davnog zaboravljenog rata
o kući čije je drvo evoluiralo u ciglu

već se polako mrači
i priče se zatvaraju s kapcima
ostavljajući riječi bez vizualnih efekata
kroz jorgan nahrupi miris pokošene trave
mukanje žednih krava iz jastuka

izmišljeni pas laje pod prozorom
dok djed dolazi

pješice

bez konja