{"id":16966,"date":"2021-10-18T16:10:12","date_gmt":"2021-10-18T14:10:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/?post_type=stsp_text&p=16966"},"modified":"2021-10-28T12:57:20","modified_gmt":"2021-10-28T10:57:20","slug":"koranda-poems","status":"publish","type":"stsp_text","link":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/text\/koranda-poems\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

shape and form<\/strong><\/p>\n

there are circles turning to spirals.
\nthe flesh, deep and seething,
\nis cut: triangulate and tamed.
\non the plane of paper we
\nexist neatly:
\npoint 1 – me
\npoint 2 – you
\npoint 3 – us
\nmistake lines for a palm,
\npoints for relation, and you will
\nsee how three ends form a
\ncircle and tie off circulation.
\nit is not so much that flesh turns into
\nsomething it is not: it is that it seizes
\nto exist. in these shapes, we
\nfeel free, but to be free is
\nlonely. not even god dared give
\nsuch sweet promise. this contour
\nwe recognise: we warp,
\nslice and contain, flesh fermented.
\nfinally we take on form as our
\ncorpses collapse.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

slap<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am so happy that I can
\nconjure up all the things<\/p>\n

I want to do. watching
\nhas become the same as<\/p>\n

doing. my body
\njust another body<\/p>\n

I am exterior to. images
\nflicker up, of things<\/p>\n

seen but never done.
\nwhen cleaning myself up,<\/p>\n

a burning
\nstays at<\/p>\n

the point of exit.
\nit screams of<\/p>\n

the rotation of
\nfusing together,<\/p>\n

slowly, over hours,
\nbut also of<\/p>\n

the disruption
\nwhen slapped<\/p>\n

in the face.
\nwhen you stop<\/p>\n

revolving, and stare
\nat each other.<\/p>\n

reflections trying
\nto recognise the other.<\/p>\n

that face of utter
\nincomprehension is burnt<\/p>\n

onto your iris.
\nit almost smells of abandonment.<\/p>\n

the eye is not
\na monitor, much<\/p>\n

less forgiving, so
\nit still erupts.<\/p>\n

you then go to the
\ncomputer, where<\/p>\n

you, in turn, erupt.
\ndisappointingly,<\/p>\n

the screen
\nstares back.<\/p>\n

your reflection blank and
\nsharp a slap in the face.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

stye<\/strong><\/p>\n

you see, it\u2019s not the first time that my eye unwillingly
\nbecomes the canvas to his eruptions.
\nhe taints my lid red: droplets of paste
\nflying, then laughter to level it out.
\nafter brushing our teeth
\nhe shows me
\nhis succulents.
\nhe points – I look.
\ndays laters I ask: with which
\nkiss exactly did I hand over my
\nvision: when I pleased him without
\na pelvis, a border turned to
\nsand, rippled through me until
\nI am away?
\nI will never know.
\nonce the outlines are gone they
\ndo not come back. only an
\neye swelling, a conversation where he dissolves
\ninto grains, so skilfully lucid, and
\nthe moment he closes his mouth I see.
\nit kind of all makes sense,
\nyou see.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

the lightning strikes
\n<\/strong>
\nI remember like this:
\ncigarettes put out
\non my forehead
\nred hiss
\nblack holes
\nstay.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

stye (2)<\/strong><\/p>\n

I was looking for warm arms, not your succulents. you gave me neither, although you did embrace
\nyour succulents, then wrapped your spiky arms around me. you came in my eye and we roared. it
\nturned red and a week later I had a stye. again. I\u2019m trying to say a lot while words end. I left the
\nnext morning and I knew you wanted me to stay because you pushed me away. there is a sting in the
\nembrace that a man allows: you will never love me. maybe I could have loved you, maybe I loved
\nyou already, during the 8.5 days during which my eye swell up and I could not see time connecting.
\nthen you opened your mouth and I turned away from him, who was you, who was him, too? your
\narms the same length and the glow of your eyes inverted. all pretend-play: wooden wall disguised
\nas a mirror. who was I, I was with you? I feel your palms on my shoulder but they do not exist. I
\nremember your reflection and you disperse.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

lymph<\/strong><\/p>\n

sore and sweaty
\nI was a vessel of withdrawal.
\nmy throat wanted a cup of your
\nlavender tea, but no. the junctions swell up and
\nall became connected: 500 points in one body, binding and burning.
\nmy skin surpassed and oozed onto the empty mattress. doctors usually hide
\ntheir worry, but this one was very bad at her job, given that comfort was part of her job in the first
\nplace? I asked for a palm on my shoulder and she pressed index and middle finger against my neck.
\nI rested my head against her chest and she said sit straight. stethoscope against my lower back and
\noutside it was night and you had stolen my blanket. I laid there and watched you enjoy your
\ngreediness, breathing so peacefully underneath two blankets, you even convinced me that the cold
\nwas temporary. that it would ebb away with the rising sun.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

tortellini with tomato sauce
\n<\/strong>
\nI cannot remember which floor your
\nflat was on but yesterday I made
\ntortellini with tomato sauce and
\nthe saltiness of
\nthe sauce, the floppiness
\nof the pasta
\noverwhelmed me. I saw you
\non your knees
\neating me and
\nbehind you on your desk
\nthe bowl of tortellini with tomato sauce
\nyour dad had prepared for you.
\nat 12, we were still cooked
\nand cared for.
\nwhy did we always end up at yours?
\nbecause neither
\nyour dad
\nnor your mum
\nwas ever at home.
\nmy dad was always there
\nbut never knew
\nwhere I was.
\nhow excellent
\na liar I was.
\nI knew exactly
\nwhat to leave out:<\/p>\n

the gaps<\/p>\n

just as important
\nas what hides in-between.
\nbecause, not in spite, of their silence
\nthey consume everything
\nsurrounding them.
\nin the school toilet, when we
\nstood still,
\nobserving each other,
\nthe pissoir
\nempty between us collapsed.
\nin the rubble they found
\nthe distance
\nwe had
\nbestowed on
\nit to tell<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

shape and form there are circles turning to spirals. the flesh, deep and seething, is cut: triangulate and tamed. on the plane of paper we exist neatly: point 1 – me point 2 – you point 3 – us mistake lines for a palm, points for relation, and you will see how three ends form […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":17050,"template":"","categories":[46,11],"class_list":["post-16966","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-19","category-lyrik"],"yoast_head":"\nPoems - stadtsprachen<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/text\/koranda-poems\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"de_DE\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale:alternate\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Poems - stadtsprachen\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"shape and form there are circles turning to spirals. the flesh, deep and seething, is cut: triangulate and tamed. on the plane of paper we exist neatly: point 1 – me point 2 – you point 3 – us mistake lines for a palm, points for relation, and you will see how three ends form […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/text\/koranda-poems\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"stadtsprachen\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/Stadtsprachen\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2021-10-28T10:57:20+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/18-scaled-e1634042409832.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1600\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1600\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@stadtsprachen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Gesch\u00e4tzte Lesezeit\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"5\u00a0Minuten\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/stadtsprachen.de\\\/de\\\/text\\\/koranda-poems\\\/\",\"url\":\"https:\\\/\\\/stadtsprachen.de\\\/de\\\/text\\\/koranda-poems\\\/\",\"name\":\"Poems - 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