poem – Page 54 – hidden pilcrow

The one who gives a damn

Published on 16/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski2 Comments

My dentist told me that I grind my teeth while sleeping,
and I am not entirely sure if I should be upset or relieved.
I know my endless craving for affection has been tiring
for quite some time now, and if you ask me if I am dead
inside, then I may well be, but that one random remark
could make all the difference. You see, I thought I had
to grit my teeth to keep from giving her the satisfaction.
It turned out that, while she enjoys the Riviera, the one
who gives a damn is the quiet man with a handpiece.

Substitute hunting

Published on 15/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Armed and determined, I prowl the interiors of my humble dwelling.
My weapon? A tightly folded premium kitchen towel. My prey? A fat,
buzzing housefly. But damn if I don’t feel like a real seasoned hunter.
And everything would be just fine if only I knew where the unsettling
sense of misplaced anger came from.

drawing of a mad dog leaning over a rabbit

Life as a fatal sexually transmitted disease

Published on 14/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

There was a time when I thought that there was a real possibility that life could be an act
of intentional cruelty, but now all I can say is that I no longer believe in the whole idea
of intentionality.

surreal scene with two figures, one with a bird's head and a glass of wine, the other wrapped in a plaid sitting on an elegant armchair

From observations on the recovery of a fallen snob

Published on 13/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Any self-respecting hostage of life, slowly forgetting human words,
would stick to reflexes: dinner, long-dead Yeats, masturbation, sleep,
and so on and so forth, for if the French are to be believed, l’appétit
vient en mangeant.

abandoned suitcase on wheels in the middle of the airport

Departures

Published on 13/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Taking a flight to New York—does that not sound great? Yeah,
but no thanks; I would rather not. Reality never matches a dream
anyway, and it was not even my dream in the first place.
Also, departures at Heathrow Airport, unlike the arrivals gate,
are not all about love, although I am sure Hugh Grant’s voice
would sugar something up if you asked. But if I ever do fly there,
it better be with you. I am sure you will find some room
in your baggage for a pocket book of poetry
and an urn.

surreal construction of human skull and bones on arid desolate land

Anthropocene

Published on 12/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

As the big words settle at the bottom of Crawford Lake, I wonder
if that sediment might one day do more than just spoil the flavour
of the hazelnuts my distant heir will be snacking on while reading
tracks on a pack hunt.

The despair of a bird of passage

Published on 11/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

If I had died captivated by the empty house of the stare,
where would my feathers have fallen? I remember that,
while calling me names and laughing, the other habitués
of labyrinthine school corridors were just as oblivious.
Forty years later, I barely recognise the nameless faces
staring back at me from the old photographs, but I know
that sedentary birds hold on just as desperately.

The perfect lovers

Published on 09/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

This has always been going to be a beautiful day.
After all, it gets off to a good start as we wake up
early in the morning with a cheerful disposition,
and despite your obsessing over the pumpkin seeds
I forgot to buy, breakfast is deliciously nutritious.

An uneventful day at work is nice for a change, too.
Then a quick visit to the grocery store to grab dinner.

In the evening, I close the curtains to become a hero
of all the scenes of a sexual nature enacted barefoot
on the odd pages of a yearbook I found in the attic
on the sofa you once exiled from the living room,
although oddly enough, I seem to have some difficulty
finding your pictures there. Fortunately, there is always
a mirror that we bought for our last birthday.

two dummy hands refraining from touching

Reasons

Published on 09/07/202316/07/2023 by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

T. S. Eliot in translation, although no longer necessary—I mean, the translation, not the poet,
or so I guess—makes me think of unredeemable time. I always thought there must be a reason
for your ever-growing reluctance to touch, just like there must be a reason for my tinnitus.
After all, a correct diagnosis is essential to finding a cure. It turned out that there is no remedy
for lies.