Broken yet repaired - 20 april 2020
This home and I are collapsing
into each other, in fear,
I’m giving birth to its knotted body
it bellows. A flare of being in each shout
there is an anxious kick of life in the expanding flesh
their bodies attached to mine;
checking the corners for leaks - I got new angles
looking under the bed for lost socks -
I became shelter - examining the faucets, the stove -
the fears moved my house inside
enclosing it into my sight, my ears;
And only so we are now walking
away, doors and plumbing
surviving entangled
in mold and upon rust
smells of fries and curved pipes
These embodied lines keep me in place
fear as glue and spark inside my slanting body
I’ve been dreaming of hills - vineyards and strawberries
a couple of dogs upon a scorched courtyard
meandering up and down someone’s eyeball
I am to leave - strawberries dry out
to move my fears somewhere else
But breaking the entangled
apart will hurt. The house will soon be stiff
– forsaken – a pile of objects arranged
again by room name
pulled from my brown eyes
still warm with fear
Crystal Palace, London. August 2019. Source: Olimpia Mosteanu