No Other Survivors

I sit by the emergency exit

at a neat desk

in the office with

neat plastic flowers.

 

Freshly baked people buzz

empty in black and white.

A typed frozen password on my screen: bonjours tristesse number eleven.

It keeps snowing in Russian.

 

A nest arrives.

Hollow roundness.

At my window, a kneeled motionless pigeon

is picking and picking at my praying crumbs.

No other survivors.

 

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Photography: @John Stadnicki, ‘Cimitero Monumentale’ 2016

Peace Talk

image

A peace talk has taken place
today between me and these wounds; the treaty signed
on a scrap of blank paper
with a determination which lasted
for over thirty eight years.
Thirty eight long roads.
Ended quietly in a town with
almost no street lights and yet
I reluctantly said yes
for the sake of another last hour.

The Reality of Lines

I am the best like this
with nothing left
hanging
dried purple tulips
at each door handle.
With no audience
I face the blackness of each line
to learn what remains of reality.
The hope that all could be new
when everything is
already gone.

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@Maria Stadnicka

Thought

 

to M. M.

 

Even without a language

I walk that way

marching towards the watery sun

with anger.

It never rains inside of an egg

so

I choose to deny

the sea born

in my rib cage

and go on

being allowed to hope.

chairPhoto: Maria Stadnicka

Thought

All the necessary preparations
were done. This is
what they will say when
the truth will eventually come out.

Although she never arrived
like everyone else
during the visiting hours
she almost made it.

If she had waited for a bit longer
someone, maybe you listening now,
would have noticed
the eventual passing
of such a miracle.

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Photo: Maria Butunoi

What Happened with Clare

to Clare B.

Clare didn’t wear
green trousers anymore.
It was a kind of winter
so she decided
other colours were
better suited for her there,
as she sat on the cross.

Her face had lots of
squares and dots and lines on it.
I remember at one point
some glue.
Her face had music.

Clare didn’t say much but
I noticed how she put down
the empty cup
and replied ‘well, good bye then!’.

Her giggle melted in a slice of bread,
flowing over a blank canvas.

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Photo: Maria Butunoi

Settlement

when finally God agreed
to go ahead with the interview
we’d planned ages back
I had no further questions
so I offered him
a ham sandwich instead

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Photo: Maria Butunoi