No pata negra

When destiny is the most you can bear,
personal extinction is not a threat;
it’s an escape route from the horror of choice,
yet just saying that makes it sound trivial,
like a barking dog’s obligations: a scheduled comfort
or love amongst the travellers.

But you don’t have to be upset to be kind,
even if nature does make fun of us
and it feels ridiculous to be hunted
by literary characters we killed—
as if we didn’t care, except we do—
instead of letting them run their course.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

Corpullation

While rummaging through the cupboards
full of semitransparent containers and ancestral dust,
Mr Honk, though immaterial, was reflecting
on the layer of flesh over his bones
and whether it wasn’t an inch too thick,
like the hollow walls without insulation
that separated him from the clamour
of his alleged sins, interspersed with inductions
on emotional economy, and all the books read
and reread over and over again, through generations,
to battle the excruciating boredom of the days
of conscience, only to be more agreeable
about the difference between a roman à clef
and a secret journal.


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com