Words are beings with a life of their own.

Each one that comes to me from you,

I catch, dissect, look deep

inside – I play with their hearts.

Sometimes I rearrange them,

wash and give them new clothes.

They become pretty.

That’s how I survive.


Maja S. Todorovic


Bureau for unwanted things

You remember that boy in the 5th grade that pulled your hair and called you ‘Fatty Betty’?

We know all about it.


You know that ugly bracelet your parents gave you for your 21st  birthday and

how you wished it disappear?

Consider it done.


You know that fear of spiders that shows up from nowhere

each time you dust your room?

It’s gone!


Just lift your left arm, it won’t hurt…

This kind man in white coat will take care of everything, dear.


Maja S. Todorovic

NaPoWrimo Day 3: Love subliminal

You know of the love subliminal:

it’s like when your deep voice comes

from misty darkness


in waves of the love subliminal;

when every cell of my body rejoices

in the rhythm of drums


playing melody of the love subliminal;

when my tied hands spasm around

dance of the lonely body parts


living in the house of the love subliminal;

when only sound of your guitar exists

and purpose floats towards final silence.

Maja S. Todorovic

On the Beautiful Blue Danube

I could see the island from my window. During summer we used to go to swim and play there: At Lido beach. The alluvial plateau verved with life and deep, green bushes. In the middle of the island was a small lake where fish in love would go on a date at night; secluded from the city lights youngsters would play in my hands. As I would dig in the sand my little feet, with one eye I would count all 17 archaeopteryx species that I new and with other I would admire the Kalemegdan walls, standing proudly above the river bank. “The Beautiful Blue Danube”  did exist. You have to believe me!

No, it’s not like the story I used to tell about wired fences, birds with plastic wings and hatcheries of oil spill rings.

Maja S. Todorovic