The God in the Attic

In our attic,
among things, as it seems
of past lives,
lives a bitter God.

When guests come to our house,
we don’t mention him.
When we’re alone,
we talk about him quietly,
fearing of being heard.

We do not know exactly when he moved in,
nor do we know why exactly with us.

Maybe because of the serenity.

___

The featured image accompanying this poem, entitled ‘I. Am. Legend’, have been used with the permission of artist Patricio Betteo.

Ernad Osmic

Ernad Osmic was born in Brcko (Bosnia). He have lived for a while in Germany as a refugee of the civil war, but now is back in his home country. He makes a living as a freelance translator and writer.

Get the Most Recent Stories from Rollick

A weekly newsletter featuring new and emerging writers.

More from Rollick

After the Earthquake

At first, the dreams were jagged and bewildering, like migraine lightning or a Dali canvas. Later, they softened into rolling scapes of sea or land,

Ca’Venezia: Your Voice

  Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter

For Matthew

Today I am thinking of you and Michigan. Remember how back in the day I didn’t drink coffee? Well, I still don’t care for it