3 Poems from Vyarka Kozareva

photography of sand inside the house
photo by Jean Wimmerlin (unsplash)


In a tapestried matchbox
I keep an old story 
About two colliding hummingbirds.
The feathers left behind
Say nothing tangible about the vanity
In the always-and-everywhere dimension.
Throb after thrill
And throe after throb.
My sentiment- intoxicated bloodstream
Imagines itself significant
To obfuscate the cynicism.


Can you discern 
The avid caterpillar in the orange heart 
Of the moon?
Its bile can scald arterial paths between poles
Leaving the juice to transpire
While the flesh’s still fresh
And the sickness transpiercing 
In its discordance.
I’m afraid
The wolves under my tongue will wail 
Stable in their indelicacy
To devour themselves.
Somewhere else, in lost saddlebags, 
Time, broody,
Is pining for stoicism. 
Please, from your tower of ossicles,
Show me the right orbit
For which to define 
The line of apsides.


Every night I visit different places,
Observe behavioral oddity,
Sleep in different crania,
Obsess foreigners
Who eat grapes 
But don’t share any with me.
Some of them laugh uncontrollably
Neglecting the risk of choking.
The new day insists on dexterity
To remove fermented beans
From the husky throats
And feed the vultures.
The sense of direction detects that
Once syruped,
The air’s already acquired a ropy aftertaste.

Bio: Vyarka Kozareva lives in Bulgaria. Her work has appeared in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Ariel Chart, Poetry Pacific, Basset Hound Press, Bosphorus Review of Books, Mad Swirl, Ann Arbor Review, and is forthcoming in Abstract: Contemporary Expressions, Juste Milieu Lit, Sampsonia Way Magazine, and Triggerfish.