Another midnight storm washes away the cold poetry
born at the top floor.
I balance my whole weight
on long words;
frozen stones on my tongue.
I count the mistakes god has done with me,
just to pass the time.
The violent rain hid a blind dog
inside my very bone.
Here, upstairs, both of us in the same body,
awake and hungry,
©Maria Stadnicka, MMXVII
published in ‘Stride’ magazine, available here
The hunger was the woman with a friendly, foreign name-tag.
That busy Saturday.
A miracle healer, as pale as milk, passed through the city –
a reminder that we all had our role to play in the war.
For a moment, his voice stopped the curious shoppingbagscrowd-
echo between tall cement buildings.
A sudden rain followed, baptised my sleeping bag,
in the queue at the Lower Street Food Bank.
The history sliced a nearby road in tiny squares of holy bread.
– published in International Times, available here
Sometimes when both of us have dinner
the silent wolf stops by to watch.
I hear the urgent knock on the window but
keep looking forward, keep laughing.
We talk about the constant rain and
listen to the tapping sound on the roof.
I offer you another glass.
A distant howl breaks in – metallic echo in the room.
The ocean drips and drips
cold over the plates, cold over the tablecloth.
I wipe everything clean.
The milk teeth are ready to crush new words.
A poem for ‘Europa‘ by Andrew Heath https://www.amazon.co.uk/Europa-Andrew-Heath/dp/B01LYHL716
For further information on Andrew Heath’s music, please click here: https://andrewheath.bandcamp.com/
Installation – visual poem: @Maria Stadnicka, ‘Antarctica’ MMXIV- paper, wood, ink, acrylics, pastels