This month, the 136th Moon Prize goes to Violeta Zlatareva's intriguing poem "Almost Fearless."

 

ALMOST FEARLESS

by Violeta Zlatareva


I'm not scared by the empty night streets,
or the coughing drunkard around the corner.
I have bitten hands,
to steal from the air;
I’ve been eaten by dogs,
while I was starving.
I'm not afraid to tear my shoes,
they used to be cheap and often tore.
My feet
breathed the night streets,
but I was afraid of no one.

Rabbit throats squealed bloodily
as I smiled and sang like a child.
I didn't weep for hugs so I wouldn't
end up at the sink next to their eyes.

Water in the cement, brick upon brick -
all existed in alignment.
Until you decided to unleash your hair.
Tie it up before I collapse.


* * * * *

Violeta Zlatareva was born in 1992 in Velingrad, Bulgaria. She is the author of Whale Academy, a collection of short stories published by Ars in 2021 and adapted and presented by the theater Via Verde. Her second book, Register Misfortunes, was released in September 2023. Her work has appeared in a variety of print and electronic media, as well as poetry collections and anthologies such as Flight, Magic in Green, Poetry Against the War, and others. She has received national and regional literary honors.