Night is arrogant With its bared indigo-blue teeth As if to prove That can devour the whole nebula. I try to transform unrest into armistice. Too many things are forgotten unvalued And will never come with the moonlight advent. I miss the roundness of the yesterday bread— A coded copy of the holy circle That seals my lips with reverence. A temple of hope, a promise of love, Faith that nourishes repentant DNA sources, A prepense structure of perceptions, A substance of softness, An agora where Death challenges birth to a duel. Or vice versa.

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, Fevers Of The Mind, Juste Milieu Lit, Trouvaille Review, Aberration Labyrinth, Triggerfish Critical Review, Sampsonia Way Magazine, Synchronized Chaos Magazine, Toasted Cheese, The Big Windows Review, morphrog, Tipton Poetry Journal, Wildfire Words, Wellspring Literary Journal and is forthcoming in Abstract: Contemporary Expressions.