The words called me
I rinsed them with the left-over repression
And wondered if the sneeze she let out
Was a symphony of sympathy
I said god bless you
For he had ruined me
When I thought my heart, my love
Was made tender through a suspicion of affection.
‘Suspicion of affection’ are ghosts
That make you believe in unnatural things like:
Mother who loves her child
Father who sings lullabies
And a dire Jupiter pregnant with life.
Things turn upon themselves
And worlds are all upside down.
I fetishise one smile then,
When its tongue is smothered by suspicion of affection,
I let him caress me, indifferently,
If only to let the warmth out.
Picture credits: Laura Makabresku : “self-portrait with my dear Husband (Kraków, 2015)”