A place full of golden dust.

Lubomír Tomik

the golden dust of the sky pours on us from the marble urns

stern look
promise of dawn

when are you different
in all the reflections of the golden grains in the light

we write our names in them with our index fingers

gold dust from the urns of the gods
we lay on the border next to them

and you
you are the most beautiful,
in a yellow Modigliani jacket


we become part of the fire.