Analysis

O analysis, my Anna-Lisa with eyelashes like
an ideogram from a cosmic project
while you probe my temples with a pair of compasses
and try to trasform the City Wall into a breast
from Rodin’s sculptures
the concrete blocks vanish among your long fingers.
O analysis, my Anna-Lisa with a back like a sheet of architects’ paper
on wich God and the fallen angels play hop-scotch
as you lay the ruler on my back
Aerodrom vanishes out of sght
Novo Lisiche is beyond recognition
and the agencies report changes in downtown Chicago.
O analysis, my Anna-Lisa with a vagina as red as colour of revolution
and soc-realist housing blocks
my penis is part
of the axonometry of building with an elongated spiral shape
and my words are items of a drawing kit
in the hands of our love
with skills of an architect.

(translated by Zoran Anchevski)