Beach by the hospital
you exist because of hospitals,
like hollow books for unite furniture in a showroom.
kitchens are decorated with plastic fruits,
surgeons are decorated with blood.
your own tissue has conspired against you.
the revolt was put on a platter,
round and final like a medal won.
you ran and came first.
then you, tired, stretched on the beach.
women tourists provokingly displayed their tits,
each had two at least.
sea left no room for the dead at the table,
it immediately filled the hole,
equally at the service,
sick-nursing kind-heartedly, unfeeling
© translated by Iskra Pavlović