Under the white blouse. Lubomír Tomik under the white blouse are the towers of medieval castles, bombarded by beautiful bodies of courtesans full of plague ulcers, under a white blouse pulled to the body by the tenderness of warm palms, cohorts fluttering in the wind, preparing to attack, waving delicate features of lipstick, under the white blouse are the towers of medieval castles ready to succumb. The Queen hurried to the walls, palms on temples, eyes narrowed, into memories printed memories of You. She will take my hand and turn around.
/from the collection of poems ,,Bowl of fancy fish.“ /2017/ on the cover Sylvia Plath on the beach…once