Poem by Pino Pograjc
FALSE IDOLS
I saw a tiny woodlouse
strolling through my room
with a golden shell
and marble legs,
creating a beat,
a succession of steps
from an eternal soul,
divine in its nature,
coercing me to dance.
So I danced,
trampled the wood
beneath my feet,
bashed the lights,
ripped the linens
and made them watch.
Those who could,
joined in and started to dance,
to shake the foundations
of our homes,
to bolt through the walls,
rip apart the blinds,
burning down our shelters.
In the axis of our bliss,
I became aware,
so I clawed at myself,
scratched my body,
beat my senses to sacrifice
to the tiny woodlouse,
whose body stopped,
very slowly turned
and faintly whispered:
“I am no god.”
Originally published in Issue XVIII in May 2019.