Canadian Sunset

by Ana Prundaru

Last night I dreamed I came into 
possession of an eraser and
 attempted to remove the bullet

between the Canadian guard’s 
shoulder blades; right before silver 
wings dragged him into the foggy

sunset. When I woke up, I thought 
I should have erased the darkness 
lurking behind him in the first

 He sat on coral-leafed mountains, 
glaring down on a barking dog and 
people holding

candles. I can’t tell 
you what he said, except: “Some souls 
are made of dreadful, moldy fabrics.”









Ana Prundaru works as a legal translator in Switzerland. Her writing and art have appeared in such publications as The Citron Review, SmokeLong and Inky Needles. A poetry chapbook is forthcoming from Etched Press. Visit her at


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