I believe in few things

I believe in few things:
the shyness of the crown
when trees hold back their fingers,
Nestor, the Gerenian,
guiding his mounts so
no hooves touch the ground,
the distance between things
sacred
kept
just so, as twins
remove their city clothes and foliate,
make folly and other such fulsome
flowers,
the lovely rigid standard of time
letting us know
man-made things have secret doors
we did not mean to build, savagery
from savagery,
made into porcelain
The Rite of Spring misunderstood by Parisians
and all these metonymies of
nature versus culture
danced away in wars
and maternities.
blink and you will
see.
I believe in few things.

Any-much-more

the lapse comes with the cold
gradually, I lose the walls and windows
and rush
without rails or radars
through the tombs and colonnades
of the Hermitage
where everything is ugly, no art
holds a candle to me, it greys
it festers, i realize with age
i care only for my fat, i’m not required
to like beautiful things
any-much-more
the fountain has dried up
the bronze, dull like
braying donkeys on the trail
where we carry
our little satchels
instead of scattering the seeds
waste,
waste everything now
i go into the grotto full of blessed
mud, i will love only
mud, no virtue
or obligation can keep me
here
any-much-more.

Florina Nastase is an Assistant Professor at 'Alexandru Ioan Cuza' University in Yassi, Romania. She holds a PhD in American poetry, and spends too much time writing fan fiction online under various guises. She has been published in Gasher Journal and High Shelf Press and hopes to publish more.