I have died
Again,
and here I
Am
Once pale skin, white as the moon
now charred as black as starless
night sky
A Montenegrin, ethnically cleansed,
shining bright
as a Serbian Cross,
My left foot
A featherweight,
my face unrecognizable,
fine
Slavic linen.
My enemy,
my enemy, are
you afraid of me?
The burnt blonde hair, the mouth, the ears?
I know I cannot please your eye
With my handsomeness.
Peder,
Peder,
Peder,
You chanted when
burning me the third time
at the stake, hoping I’d stay dead.
Dying is but reading a blueprint, and I know how
to plan, construct,
and execute.
I am a man of only twenty years,
I’ve been doing this since fifteen.
The third time I killed myself I was accidentally burned alive.
My heart won’t stop beating
its attraction for you,
no matter how often you stop it.
I am broken in many Yugoslavian pieces.
I am bound by Serbian communism.
I am gayly killed.
Momci, let me join you, for
our tongues are the same,
despite where they had their relations
Crna Gora je srce Srbije,
Crna Gora je srce Srbije,
Crna Gora je srce Srbije,
I was as cool as the black mountain’s
shadows, yet they
drowned me all the same
Out of the waters
I rise through the ashes
and I eat men like colors.
Edis Rune was born in Kosovo and is of Montenegrin descent. He is a poet, novelist, and short-story writer, as well as a Queens College graduate with a Bachelor of Arts in English literature. He currently resides in New York.
Art by Aaron C. Wright
