We were on the beach, and then we weren‘t.
There is nothing more to say.
It is empty, seen from above.
In a Capsule of Close-up Infinity
When we look at one another,
and only our bodies are between us,
our tenderness is surgery of a star.
The whale before the horizon is serenely
and solemnly breathing.
And who are we?
The wild stones, in love with the sand,
with curls and quaint beauty,
they breathe too.
And I am breathing with them, mouth to mouth.
Leaves, my kings, your bright is dark,
and your dark is bright.
You are in the sky.
The stars are coming.
Time is racing asphalt.
Leaning on the window’s shutter, eyes closed,
I was inhaling deeply from the bunch of sage you’d hung up there.
“I am having sex with the Earth”, I told you.
“How so?”, you asked.
“Here, like that, with the scent – it enters me, and I give myself.”
Soaring is the hyacinth,
a crown of itself,
a crowning of the own,
and an I above the crown.
The permutations of love were taking place in a sunlit space.
Spring was maturing into summer,
death was evolving, it now involved planets and roots.
It was a circle.
Somewhere in it, I overflowed –
my eyes had mirrored themselves in the deep of yours.
Gray flecked, with lights.
Margarita Serafimova was shortlisted for the Montreal Poetry Prize 2017, Summer Literary Seminars 2018 and 2019, and Hammond House Prize 2018; long-listed for the Christopher Smart (Eyewear Publishing) Prize 2019, Erbacce Press Poetry Prize 2018 and Red Wheelbarrow 2018 Prize, and nominated for Best of the Net 2018. She has three collections in Bulgarian. Her work appears in Agenda Poetry, London Grip, Waxwing, Trafika Europe, Landfill, A-Minor, Poetry South, Great Weather for Media, Orbis, Nixes Mate, StepAway, Ink, Sweat and Tears, Leveler, Mookychick, HeadStuff, Minor Literatures, Writing Disorder, Birds We Piled Loosely, Chronogram, Noble/ Gas, Origins, The Journal, miller’s pond, Obra/ Artifact, Arteidolia/ Swifts&Slows, Memoir Mixtapes, glitterMOB, TAYO, Guttural, Punch, Tuck, Ginosko, etc. Visit: .