One poem by Margarita Serafimova

If it were possible …

If it were possible for me to be there, I would be fingers

and nails of impetuous dark, and I would lightly cleave to you,

and leaning over you, I would let you drink my throat.

Fury and sand, quick, count down your desert.

MARGARITA SERAFIMOVA has contributed to Outsider Poetry, Heavy Athletics, Anti-Heroin Chic, the Peacock Journal, Noble/ Gas Quarterly, In Between Hangovers, Window Quarterly/ Patient Sounds. Pieces of hers are forthcoming in The Voices Project, Obra/ Artifact, MockingHeart Review, London Grip New Poetry, The Birds We Piled Loosely. She has two books of poetry in the Bulgarian.