Gordan Struić is a poet and lawyer from Zagreb, Croatia. His writing often explores silence, memory, and the hidden dialogues between place and emotion. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Beyond Words, 34th Parallel Magazine, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Prosetrics Magazine, Voidspace, and #Ranger Magazine. When not writing, he enjoys playing guitar and savoring Mediterranean cuisine, while returning to the Adriatic coast whenever he can.
Maybe later
The coffee smells stronger
than the sea today.
I thumb through the newspaper,
still damp,
find the sports page,
find bad news.
Another Sunday,
another stupid loss.
I sip.
Swear under my breath.
Turn another page.
Maybe later I’ll nap.
Maybe I’ll just throw myself
into the sea —
better than throwing the cup
at the wall.
The sun leans heavy
on my shoulders.
A seagull shrieks like a bad referee.
I feel a poem
brewing somewhere,
mixed with salt,
coffee,
and curses
still burning on my tongue.
Before the Town Wakes
(Dalmatian Morning)
The chairs are still stacked,
leaning into each other
like old men
trading last night’s regrets.
A mop leaves salt stains
across the stone,
lazy hieroglyphs
no one will read.
The air smells of wet tobacco,
rusted anchors,
and promises left to dry.
I sit on a cold bench,
pull my jacket tighter,
count the gulls
until they lose interest.
Somewhere, coffee steams.
Somewhere, bread rises.
Here,
only the stubborn sea
keeps stirring.
Maybe today I’ll write.
Maybe I’ll just sit long enough
to forget even the sea.
Poetry in this post: © Gordan Struić
Published with the permission of Gordan Struić