ice cream under the sun
the days are long but the years are short.
seconds are tiny kitchen knives in my back.
i stopped reading Dickinson, her voice is a sad parrot.
i often imagine myself drowning in her punctuated chaos.
the grass is yellow everywhere
— apart from the Highlands where the plains are fluorescent
and overflowing.
the bees have confided in me that they have given up.
their hives burgled then burned — another unreported hate crime.
every day, i defeat drowsiness by talking to it.
and i finished all the surplus happiness that i stored in the jar in the pantry.
the Beatles released a new song from the grave today
— it’s the only place left to be creative.
i think i heard the tune before but it’s likely another false memory.
how does it feel to lose a member of a band?
if my friendships were to end suddenly i would use the colour orange
as my mourning attire, to mimic the vanishing sunset.
the years are short and the days feel too long
to measure with a ruler.
if i can remember anything, it’s that i left a bowl
of chocolate ice cream melting on the garden table.
Dragana Lazici lives in Cambridge, UK but is from a complicated background: born in Romania to Serbian parents, she grew up in Montreal, Canada after her parents escaped Communism. She then moved to the UK to do an MA in Applied Translation Studies many years ago. Her poetry often captures lived experiences of belonging to many places, from being a refugee and immigrant. Her first published poem was in Popshot Magazine in 2022. In March 2024, she was published in the anthology “Duo” by Linen Press. She was longlisted for the Plaza Poetry Prize in 2024 and was third winner of the Plough
prize in May 2024.