Ani Gjika


engines shutting off in a tunnel
lights gone out at a party

my father's hand sliding off mine
"go home now," he says, "you know the way"

red poppies reaped off with the grass
shutting off the casket, burying it away

I am afraid of your silence,

the moment after the glass has broken,
the second before I realize that car will crash

I am afraid of starting something
I don't know how to end this poem

my hands are like two continents
swimming farther and farther off the map.

Ani Gjika is published in 3rd Muse Poetry Journal, Melic Review, Stirring etc. She is currently living in Thailand.

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