Posts for June 14, 2022 (page 8)

I know you think your dog is an angel,
a sweetheart. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, loves
everyone. That he’ll be fine with my dog.

But, see mine won’t be fine with yours. She
will nip yours if he comes too close. Really
I hope you leash your dog.  Please would you, sir?

No, no, my dog is fine. He won’t leave my
side. He’s well trained. Wait! Stop! Wait! Come! Come!

Please, sir leash your dog. My dog is not okay
with your dog. He’s heading this way, please, sir.

Oh, he’s fine really No! No! No! Come here! 

Control your dog, sir!  

What the hell, lady. Your dog rollled mine right over.

I warned you sir, I did.

Into dark places she tiptoes

Some are born mothers, some achieve motherhood, and some have motherhood thrust upon them. -William Shakespeare (pretty much)

*

In the car, her bag waits. They wheel her to the exit 
and pitch her in. A miracle! She can walk
once she passes through the hospital’s liability doors.
Her fragility is over. She’s a mother now. 

In the car she tries to get comfortable,
having recently been pulled wide open in one way
or another, it is quite a task, but she manages.
She checks to see that everything she needs is

in the car. There is her overnight bag
and the bag with the camera, the bag with 
the mesh underpants. They forgot to include the
instruction book but the discharge papers read

Checklist:

1 (one) small (small) bag of diapers
1 (one) safety-approved car seat
1 (one) pink, white, and blue blanket
1 (one) new (like, really new (super new)) baby

Thank you for choosing our hospital 
for your birthing needs! If your experience
has been favorable, please leave us a five-
star review. Otherwise please keep it to yourself. 

We can’t please everybody. 

The problem isn’t
Misinformation. 
Conspiracy theories
Aren’t to blame.
We suffer a great
Lack of discernment.
And our bullshit radars
Are way lame.

Last night,
Phantom termites
Tore through my psyche,
Eating my essence.

Burrowing into buried memories,
To feast on the forgotten.

Excavating entombed desires,
To devour every dream.

Boring through my beliefs,
To consume all convictions.

I awoke,
Hollow.

(Undergrowth with Two Figures, Van Gogh, 1890)

(Poem Titled: i felt a breeze in the undergrowth, JSTPOETRY)

I met you in the undergrowth on a cloudy spring day
we both exchanged discontent and turned to walk away
hesitating in concern the trees started to turn gray 
I learned a warm breeze doesn’t always ease but can weigh 

(The Dream, Henri Matisse, 1940)

(Poem Titled: Conducive Colors, JSTPOETRY)

Weary of measurements being taken in her head
she opted for cheery hues of alternatives instead,
they led, 
to superlative views that spread

her dreams were read,
in emblems of purple, gold, and red
whenever she felt sad about what was said
she circled back to the colors and looked ahead

(Four Darks in Red, Mark Rothko, 1958)

(Poem Titled: A PAINTING THAT ENGULFS ME, JSTPOETRY)

Alter my sense of space,
place a Rothko in front of my face

an experience I whimsically chase
on a canvas I willingly embrace 

(Nighthawks, Edward Hopper, 1942)

(Poem Titled: watching through a window, JSTPOETRY)

I had thought of eight hundred and ninety four perspectives
but I wondered with esprit if there were possibly more
the objectiveness and constancy of my shifts,
I couldn’t freely ignore
there were only four (people)
but the neon lighting illuminated their worlds with galore,
in their shoes myself I poured
I curiously explored
and despite degrees of variances they all felt similar at their core

(Water Lillies, Claude Monet, 1919)

(Poem Titled: Water Lillies, JSTPOETRY)

A depression had me gloom,
from the loss I presume
an exhaust would resume,
until I saw you bloom

(A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Latte, Georges Seurat, 1886)

(Poem Titled: lonely on La Grande Jatte, JSTPOETRY)

I needed to not feel so numb 
perched shaded from a sun
I needed to not be so lonesome
searching for anyone

I observed the people as I sat,
on a Sunday at La Grande Latte
I was too tired to chat
but I wanted people to know where I was at

(Girl with a Pearl Earring, Johannes Vermeer, 1665)

(Poem Titled: To Tentatively Turn, JSTPOETRY)

There were confusing components about the day, 
a few clear moments littered in rays,
would I go or would I stay, was I slowly fleeting away
I looked back with the hesitation of a gaze
in a duration that sticks with me always
as I assessed in all the ways
feeling like the girl with the pearl earring if I rephrase

you were 16 when
First Love kissed you
gently before going in,
his Nirvana shirt tossing about
erratic with all the other
arms and legs and energy –
a cell’s membrane bloodied
wide open and the contents
finally free to confront
one and another,
like they all had a bone to pick,
and your body lost in the exhilaration
of love and hormones and
finally feeling like your ball
had found its socket.

you don’t remember 
being born and you will not
remember dying 

Two knives –
against each party
at some point I wished to reconcile.
Two knives, which I then threw out the window,
even though the slumber slowed me down.
Because there is neither need for battles
with insanity and stupidity,
nor for selecting between bad and bad.
But even when I put the weapons aside,
I continue wounding.

Author: Marin Bodakov
Translator: Katerina Stoykova