"Metachrosis" and "Capitulation"

Metachrosis

I'm interested in the moment

when the pine tree becomes a Christmas tree.

The transformation.

Fully decorated,

not yet carved into the base.

It happens in between.

 

At the blood-draw, in the dentist's chair

and during similar situations,

I think about my premature daughter,

the first time I saw her,

to gain strength,

when they stuck a needle in her tiny head,

or at a family gathering

with her forehead peeking out from under the scarf

leaning against my friend's, her godfather's sister’s

naked arm as she

fell asleep on a swing bed,

which happened when she was one and a half,

on her first conscious Christmas Eve:

 

I was busy with something

next to the pine tree with some scattered ornaments

already set up with a base in place.

We hadn't been so careful about secrecy,

and perhaps my mother-in-law's supervision had slipped,

suddenly Móci appeared next to me,

with a tone of surprise in her voice,

doubt, hope, unexpected joy,

asked me the question:

"Christmas tree?"

And the transformation took place.

 

---

 

Capitulation

I planned a blitzkrieg,

I managed to advance,

but the fierce resistance

slowed my attack,

and, as is so often the case

the front lines stalled,

the resulting stalemate warfare

came with too many casualties,

my heartland, where I felt secure

was weakening,

while hoping for a miracle weapon

step by step I was pushed back,

so far that I couldn't even hold

the borders of my homeland,

the invading army

surrounded my city,

so I began to hum,

there would be no victory,

I wanted it to be, but it failed to be

then I realized

the enemy was in my house

I searched for poison and revolvers

but to no avail,

finally, to the stranger who

I wanted to cast into hell,

I had to unconditionally surrender.