Ana Dragu
d poem
today is the terrible monday,
gaping open at your feet like the onset of an avalanche
the day when you open your eyes in fear
your life coud disappear from your life at any moment
with your father grandmother brother sister
your best friend
today is the terrible monday
when you don’t think your love stands any chance
and you do all you can to make sure it stands
no chance
the day after the night when
you dreamed your child was burning alive
in his bed
the day after the day when you committed a robbery
when you’re caught
and it all seems unreal
and no one shows up with an orange in their left hand
to throw it to you all wrong
with a gesture that’s
retarded and sweet
sexual totalitarianism
today words seem as terrifying
as love
ended up in the hands of incompetents
for who now has the power to still thrill
when the attrocious twins have awakened
they need silence
and tall ceilings
to shout at each
other:
which is the way inside you?
what to do with our fever now
what to do with anyone’s fever
with the eyes that have seen the unseen
and then spattered the future in the dark
the bath
see how big you’ve grown
we’ve stopped hiding the knives away because each of us
knows what they have to do
what is needed now is music
self defense
eyes used to crying in the dark
goodbye, oh „no more tears” shampoos
you go into the bathroom
in the steam and foam you thank god
for having given man organs
that enable him to make his own
pleasure
luring
not age, not the dead
not the quiet and frantic sun
will teach me
to give up
the madwoman at the corner wants cigarettes and won’t give up
a ghost lucky enough to have found
a home to haunt
say, boy, what are you looking for around here?
- it’s me you’re looking for
open the pack, light it up for me to
so I can forget about your women
like too mild cigarettes
give me a cigarette, I’ll take you anywhere you can stay motionless
in the grass
anywhere a window opens at night
and silence comes in through it
so I don’t wake up
and rise
the sky could be seen from the bed
it would rain and then the sun
would come out
we would know nothing
except that it rains and the son comes out
- say, boy, what are you looking for around here?
he shrugs and says that word:
love
preparation
you need to have a lot of patience
until your life passes
and that’s the first thing you learn
when you start
often impulsively
to no longer have eye contact
aggressive or self-aggressive
- avoids contact with familiar people x
having difficulty making your wishes known
speaking rarely, beside the subject
you cover your ears
- likes to play in the dark x
using your smell excessively when making contact with objects, people, places chewing at your hair your shirt
not answering when they call your name
- hurts animals while playing x
- easily grows tired x
you refuse to walk barefoot on the grass on the sand you have your own moon
it lights up
at the same window in the neighbouring apartment block
science
losing a bit too much of what should be found
the only thing happening here
is a wall
on it a spider
comes back home
alone.
with endless tenderness
he tears his web
you know,
there is love in this world
hidden inside an orange
there is
curled up like an old sad monkey
in the spoon it ate with
hipnotica
come, don’t be afraid,
the world is full
of firecrackers,
but in our room
a gas fire burns
and in the other room
and in the other rooms,
in all the rooms one hundred kilometres around us, it’s quiet
and cold comes out of the pillows.
come listen to something that can only be said
with your mouth full of red wine,
with your lips stuck to the thigh
opening very,
but very slowly
an education
before you I didn’t have curtains
and I couldn’t imagine
that someone would waste their time watching me from the building across the street
through the window
now I know and I don’t see why
I should spoil their pleasure
before you I didn’t know there is a love fit
to be framed
and the love that you have to get rid of quietly, discretely
like a handicapped child
that doesn’t meet all the
requirements
I didn’t have the damned flesh
nor the superstitions
with which I’ve learned to love you monotheistically
it was terribly sad
back when
life was not
an endurance test for pleasure
all good woman poets are unhappy
now I know
and I cause
at any time
every possible touch
just so that you can hear from far away
how a heart booms when it’s
dying with pleasure
after 140 years of resistance to pleasure
one
I need to hold on to something
and I hold on to you
because the people I touch crumble in a moment.
under the window, all night long, a man barks at another man
we give up air for a peaceful body
don’t move
I’m trying to make some light.
the gifts of life
the bedroom at the first floor
my heart
a dog on the threshold
eating getting undressed
getting dressed
senile children
oblivion
the mouth wandering calmly over his body
as if looking for signs of life
from one step to the next that failure to notice
that you’re alone
while you’re terribly
alone
anniversary
you come and a cold wave then a
heat wave and a cold
wave.
you come before the others
and you smile
you smell of books
and you eat shakily but with assurance
it’s you I would choose,
my friend with three heads and six hands
you and the end
& the tobaccoish sadness of a night bar
lit and deserted.
when you come
my heart beats all over the bed
because I know
we go where
the sun doesn’t shine but still
no one misses its light
Ana Dragu was born in Bistriţa, on November 13th, 1976. She published the poetry volumes Iarbă pentru fiare (Charmides, 2004), Păpuşa de ceară (Charmides, 2008) and Păzitoarea (Charmides, 2012). She founded in Bistriţa Centrul de Resurse şi Referinţă în Autism Micul Prinţ, whose coordinator she is.
d poem
today is the terrible monday,
gaping open at your feet like the onset of an avalanche
the day when you open your eyes in fear
your life coud disappear from your life at any moment
with your father grandmother brother sister
your best friend
today is the terrible monday
when you don’t think your love stands any chance
and you do all you can to make sure it stands
no chance
the day after the night when
you dreamed your child was burning alive
in his bed
the day after the day when you committed a robbery
when you’re caught
and it all seems unreal
and no one shows up with an orange in their left hand
to throw it to you all wrong
with a gesture that’s
retarded and sweet
sexual totalitarianism
today words seem as terrifying
as love
ended up in the hands of incompetents
for who now has the power to still thrill
when the attrocious twins have awakened
they need silence
and tall ceilings
to shout at each
other:
which is the way inside you?
what to do with our fever now
what to do with anyone’s fever
with the eyes that have seen the unseen
and then spattered the future in the dark
the bath
see how big you’ve grown
we’ve stopped hiding the knives away because each of us
knows what they have to do
what is needed now is music
self defense
eyes used to crying in the dark
goodbye, oh „no more tears” shampoos
you go into the bathroom
in the steam and foam you thank god
for having given man organs
that enable him to make his own
pleasure
luring
not age, not the dead
not the quiet and frantic sun
will teach me
to give up
the madwoman at the corner wants cigarettes and won’t give up
a ghost lucky enough to have found
a home to haunt
say, boy, what are you looking for around here?
- it’s me you’re looking for
open the pack, light it up for me to
so I can forget about your women
like too mild cigarettes
give me a cigarette, I’ll take you anywhere you can stay motionless
in the grass
anywhere a window opens at night
and silence comes in through it
so I don’t wake up
and rise
the sky could be seen from the bed
it would rain and then the sun
would come out
we would know nothing
except that it rains and the son comes out
- say, boy, what are you looking for around here?
he shrugs and says that word:
love
preparation
you need to have a lot of patience
until your life passes
and that’s the first thing you learn
when you start
often impulsively
to no longer have eye contact
aggressive or self-aggressive
- avoids contact with familiar people x
having difficulty making your wishes known
speaking rarely, beside the subject
you cover your ears
- likes to play in the dark x
using your smell excessively when making contact with objects, people, places chewing at your hair your shirt
not answering when they call your name
- hurts animals while playing x
- easily grows tired x
you refuse to walk barefoot on the grass on the sand you have your own moon
it lights up
at the same window in the neighbouring apartment block
science
losing a bit too much of what should be found
the only thing happening here
is a wall
on it a spider
comes back home
alone.
with endless tenderness
he tears his web
you know,
there is love in this world
hidden inside an orange
there is
curled up like an old sad monkey
in the spoon it ate with
hipnotica
come, don’t be afraid,
the world is full
of firecrackers,
but in our room
a gas fire burns
and in the other room
and in the other rooms,
in all the rooms one hundred kilometres around us, it’s quiet
and cold comes out of the pillows.
come listen to something that can only be said
with your mouth full of red wine,
with your lips stuck to the thigh
opening very,
but very slowly
an education
before you I didn’t have curtains
and I couldn’t imagine
that someone would waste their time watching me from the building across the street
through the window
now I know and I don’t see why
I should spoil their pleasure
before you I didn’t know there is a love fit
to be framed
and the love that you have to get rid of quietly, discretely
like a handicapped child
that doesn’t meet all the
requirements
I didn’t have the damned flesh
nor the superstitions
with which I’ve learned to love you monotheistically
it was terribly sad
back when
life was not
an endurance test for pleasure
all good woman poets are unhappy
now I know
and I cause
at any time
every possible touch
just so that you can hear from far away
how a heart booms when it’s
dying with pleasure
after 140 years of resistance to pleasure
one
I need to hold on to something
and I hold on to you
because the people I touch crumble in a moment.
under the window, all night long, a man barks at another man
we give up air for a peaceful body
don’t move
I’m trying to make some light.
the gifts of life
the bedroom at the first floor
my heart
a dog on the threshold
eating getting undressed
getting dressed
senile children
oblivion
the mouth wandering calmly over his body
as if looking for signs of life
from one step to the next that failure to notice
that you’re alone
while you’re terribly
alone
anniversary
you come and a cold wave then a
heat wave and a cold
wave.
you come before the others
and you smile
you smell of books
and you eat shakily but with assurance
it’s you I would choose,
my friend with three heads and six hands
you and the end
& the tobaccoish sadness of a night bar
lit and deserted.
when you come
my heart beats all over the bed
because I know
we go where
the sun doesn’t shine but still
no one misses its light
Ana Dragu was born in Bistriţa, on November 13th, 1976. She published the poetry volumes Iarbă pentru fiare (Charmides, 2004), Păpuşa de ceară (Charmides, 2008) and Păzitoarea (Charmides, 2012). She founded in Bistriţa Centrul de Resurse şi Referinţă în Autism Micul Prinţ, whose coordinator she is.