best friends dining breakfast leftovers
British black pudding
American baked beans, bacon and fried eggs from
countryside farms
dipping French toast into the yolk
food gets stuck in the back of their throats
a tedious repetition of ménage à trois

spinning the globe with their mouths full of
half-chewed food and cursing
dangerous countries glaring at them
a question rising like a tidal wave
where to eat out (this time)
who to fuck afterwards
somewhere far off, someone exotic
yes, we like exotic
checking out the list of the top global threats
up next
S…S…S…Serbia, no, been there
S…S…Siberia…nope, S… Syria, why the hell not
we’re mad enough

mad about the super modern research center in Damascus
and well-equipped storage facilities west of Homs
researching and storing something
an offensive to retaliate against
the suspected mass production of fog and
begin a sustained effort to make
them stop using everything banned, breathing including

today’s targets are pita bread
sprinkled with sesame seeds, spicy
chickpea salad, garlic
and lemon hummus, falafels
with fresh coriander leaves
kebab served with Aleppo pepper and
cookies filled with dates and pistachios
Big Daddy makes it abundantly clear all must go
we eat first, and discuss later

dinner goes like a bomb
can’t think on a full stomach
the world is looking at the satellite images of before and after
something turned into nothing
who wants to fuck with us now?


*The poem was originally published at Blogging with Bojana where you can read more of her work.


  1. I woke up today with a serious headache, didn’t want to open my eyes or read anything….and then I opened WP and found you had posted this poem, this poem that ignites my mind and gets under my skin, this poem that makes me think and rage and feel alive. I am glad I chose to open my eyes, to read, because I got to read this gorgeous poem, again and again. You never fail to rock the very foundations of what I thought I knew. How the fuck do you do this? My simple mind and words are so pale in front of the fire that is your art. You are my guru!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “We eat first, and discuss later” it is eerie how accurate that line and this whole poem is. I remember trying to re-blog it at the time but it wouldn’t. I took it as a sign to skip the middle man and get you on board! Love it! Your endings are always most perfect.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I remember reading this when I first discovered your work and was so impressed with both the visual acuity and straight up brass balls this piece has. Damn, you’re a force to be reckoned with Bojana!

    Liked by 1 person

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