top of page
  • Keko Prijatelj

The last tour group this season

Keko Prijatelj

Someone spilt seeds over the tiles

Now we can’t walk barefoot

That’s it, there’s no story dear readers

The story is in the seeds

We put on our boots and crush them

Yes, we crush the tiles into debris

And the field is receptive

Four imposing statues erect

They should have a name

But we forgot as they

Are blocking our Sun and we call them

Winter Morning

The one who throws the ice bolt

Summer Evening

The one who casts implosion

Autumn Morning

The one who makes quicksand

Spring Evening

Bewitches into berserk

Oh you’re still here

Enchanted and enraged we look at you

But subtly

Causing only discomfort

As we sit and stare


Keko Prijatelj is a writer from Croatia. His work has been published in Abridged, Expat Press, Green Ink Poetry, Inksac, Misery Tourism, Queen Mob's Teahouse, and elsewhere. Thank you for reading his biography.

Recent Posts

See All

The life in hand

John Grey The dark is after your eyes, your once sharp mind. People no longer know how to represent themselves in your presence. You shake your head. Their faces aren’t good enough for recognition. I


bottom of page