I always arrive late for everything.
Stuck in a traffic jam by the docks,
missed Noah’s boat but
survived under water
accidentally trapped between stolen books,
trapped by a word heavier than a stone,
lighter than a feather.
Hidden in the overcrowded wooden train carriage,
radicalised by the anonymity of my blue name-tag,
with a heart growing outside my body.
Each beat painfully visible to the guards
around the Monopoly table.
On the waiting list for ballet lessons,
radicalised by the price of uranium bullets on Mother’s Day
handwriting an apologetic note.
My deep eye silenced.
The familiar solemnity of a world without a face.
Photograph: @John Stadnicki, Bristol MMXVI
Just before midnight, in the unpreventable moment
my mother woke up to give birth to me,
I jumped out and spilt her blood on the floor.
My first angry poem, scream at the top of my lungs,
in the pale room.
A dormant city blessed the muddy wreath above the cradle
asked me to keep the noise down.
Mother went back to bed.
The following day I learnt to
write on white walls with red letters.
Poetry reading: Maria Stadnicka reading the poem
City from the collection Imperfect published by Yew Tree Press, 2017. Poem published in International Times, January 2017.
Music: Katie McCue
Video footage: World War One Archive
The newspaper of resistance brings you a new text:
Front cover design: @Andrew Morrison
We had to stop the car several times.
Weeks of anxious waiting finally ended.
A new, small, wrinkled, bloody, placental book
It had a natural birth and I called it ‘Imperfect’.
The book launch will be on Friday 19th May 2017, at Black Books Cafe, Stroud. 7.30pm for 8pm start. Free entry.
The book is available for pre-order at email@example.com.
The evening will be a vibrant performance with poetry and music, featuring Maria Stadnicka, Adam Horovitz, Jay Ramsay, Katie McCue and ‘Souled and Healed’.
Yew Tree Press – Philip Rush
Design and printer – Andrew Morrison
The evening host – Jay Ramsay
Books, drinks, sounds will be available! Come along!
Witness to a repeated history
in exile I learn a new language
facing the border control
at Heathrow Airport I wear my mother’s coat
ready for a winter of politics
when I need to
I keep my mouth shut I change my name to
look just like her
white and uncomfortable
the blinding sun has been washed and
smells of violets
people are happy
in such a beautiful land
nobody minds me
brushing the dust off velvet cutlery
the only remains
of life before baptism.
Photograph: ©Nick Victor
March 2, 2017
art, Britain, censorship, Communication, creative, culture, Heathrow Airport, International Times, journalism, Maria Stadnicka