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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.