Ana Brnardić - HOUSE IN MIAMISBURG

Crickets chirp all through the night.
The sky gently envelops the earth.
God is intimate and welcomes his guests
by patting them on the shoulder.

Fireflies shine like 120 Watt light bulbs.

From Juliet’s balcony I observe the animals.
People do not live here.
Not in those houses or high-rises.
They sleep in the logos of their companies,
then retreat from stress into the subterranean,
picking fruits that hang upside down from telegraph lines.