I'm sorry I'm late. I just gave birth to my husband — says the woman. She's naked and pushes a giant pram. The baby floats in a clear sky. I’m not sure if he is an Airbus plane —she adds.
Grandpa's horse calls me by my brother's name. Ready-drawn letters, watches, hats, a vintage car and a black coat come from his mouth. November is the month when God takes a vacation - says the horse in an angry tone. His hard feelings are justified as grandpa never gave him off-days. I try to imagine where God might rest. I get into the car which fell from the horse's mouth and set out for the sea. The horse, of course, forgets to wish me happy holiday.
On the beach, my ex-lovers ignore each other, saying the same soft, fragrant, pink, forgotten-now-rediscovered word: nectarine. The poorest of them, the one so poor that he lives in a shell, utters the syllables… nec ta rine …quite amazed at their somehow fattish and sleepy taste. The richest of them, the one so rich that he lives in a castle of clouds, utters the syllables in awe of their sultriness. I listen to their mumbling and caress the beard of the one who is neither poor nor rich. In the evening, I write my name on the forehead of the lighthouse and invent loving wives for phones that ring in the distance.
Réka Nyitrai is a spell, a sparrow, a lioness's tongue — a bird nest in a pool of dusk. She is the recipient of a Touchstone Distinguished Books Award for 2020 for her debut haiku volume “While Dreaming Your Dreams” (Valencia Spain: Mono Ya Mono Books, 2020). She is the coauthor of "Barking of the coming rain" haibun collection published by Alba Publishing. Her full length poetry collection will be out with Broken Sleep Books in September 2024.