A few examples of poems in the English language, by Laura Slot.


Maybe now’s a good time to fight back
When the salt is white
the pepper black
Someone grabbed him by the chin
in the corner
of this old boxing ring

If He’s the coach
who coaches Him


And everything moves all the time
the crying blue storms
heralding times unseen but true
in the silly faces from me to you
holding the line outside realms of possibility

And the rolling seemed stopped
against a wall raised out of dust
cemented and strong in the context
of sun and sediments’ decay
real places of mist that never go away

Find all that once stopped
in a sea of moving matter
in oceans of broken speech and being
the thought gone before it appeared
in the minds of the unspoken


Let me imagine
This pain as wind blowing past my heart
Suffocating it until it surrenders
Breaking the most fragile part

Let me realize
This pain is never coming back around
If I cherish whatever is left beating
When the wind dies down


Some creatures on the beach, you see
Are not part of society
Mother Nature is their only home
The dunes their holy place to roam
They look like us when passing by
But there is more than meets the eye
They live in tune with all Earth’s songs
And travel where spirits belong
At night as they lay their heads
Unaware of modern dread
They sleep soundly, conscience clear
Forever free from force and fear
Out of reach of devilish voices
Demanding we make different choices
Those creatures on the beach, you see
Mother Nature is their identity


Forgive me
For walking backwards
Further away from you
I left you there
In this godforsaken end station
Along with the heavy bags
That we once packed
The trains are leaving backwards
Like me
You don’t understand
But I don’t have words
And I am walking backwards


Let me drive without the brakes and
be the fool
who raised the stakes

Karmic debt is mine to pay
If I must leave I’ll never stay

The ballast is of unknown weight but
By God
Let me sail the sea of fate


The waves once covered the stone, effortlessly, before retreating
when the moon gave the time to go
Sunk into the ground, landing, the weightlessness fleeting
so gradually, in ebb after flow
Now the sand held it, to dry, to warm in the sun
its weight heavy, still, more true than before
The stone’s journey must have only just begun
so naturally, on the unfamiliar shore