John Stadnicki’s last photographs (1-24 August 2022). Black in white film.
Dreamed I found a child sleeping
on the steps of my house; perhaps lost
back from night shifts at a nearby foundry.
His fists, the size of fruits, face up
shinning below street lamps. Everything
grey as expected in night terrors.
Blackbirds call his name, flutter
in circle. Above city parks, a time-grenade
hissing before its safety pin snaps.
Lights off. …………………………………….
I reach up holding a door key.
Open a final version of myself.
25th August 2022, Maria Stadnicka
‘It is unfortunately hard to recall our quasi-permanent concern with the future, for on our return from a place, perhaps the first thing to disappear from memory is just how much of the past we spent dwelling on what was to come; how much of it, that is, we spent somewhere other than where we were.’ (de Botton, 2002)