Unlocked. A Poem by Ewa Fornal

Pushed to compact my hopes to a size of a ring box
The hours pass unbrushed
I would risk my life for a decent haircut
I count my steps
Life, unrecognized device
I become immune to everyday shite
The growing digits on TV screen stopped to bother me
The days with missing dates on a calendar
No plan
I use my right hand to contaminate the belief
I got

In my dream I walk the patients from a hospital by my hand
To give them the portion of the sun and the air they deserve
Their nostrils unlock for the smell of freshly shaved lawn
Their half open mouths, they’re like carps grasping for air
Walk through the empty town in their stripped pajamas
– like prisoners
I leave them to themselves
I leave them to the colors that surround them

In my dream I walk as far as I like
The red sky with Munch like face sun
stretches along the Dublin seaside
In the early morning, coming back from work
I ride my bicycle horse in a gallop of my thoughts
That cut through the ghost of Garda member’s face
And never come to halt

I’m on my own again and I don’t know what to do with myself
With my face as big and fat as the Tesco supermarket
I chew the basket and I lick the cashier
I get drunk with hand sanitizer

In my dream I,
I am stripped, they shave my fur,
I become the room
I become immune



Ewa Fornal is member of Dublin Writers’ Forum in Dublin.

1 Comment

  1. This poem is written by someone whose first language is not English, it has an awkwardness which at first appears jarring, the novelty of language irritates, we are drawn in by the beauty of the imagery and the everydayness which speaks to our universal humanity. As we progress the awkwardness becomes essential, the effort of striving to express oneself in another language as eloquently and personally as possible burnishes the words. This poem is more than it’s subject, it is the work of a fish learning to breathe in a different river and it is all the better for it.

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