Christmas poem

PopWash

The headache passed on the horizon of the supervisor’s message

Concerns that I may not be on the same position

Breathing hard, the body stood up

Wears bicycle leggings

A huge curve of saliva accumulated on the tongue

Legs with feet in socks and toes went into the shoes

Water flows down my back

After talking in the office and washing in the small kitchen dishwashing room

A gift followed:

- We want you in the team in the new year as well.

He said.

After the shift was over, I rolled on wheels

Turning the pedals to West London

I had something beautiful to hope for.

_______________________________________

20.43 h - 20.54 h

24/12/21

Friday

(Christmas Eve)

New poem in English

 A plan for each thought

There are no dandelions in the field

Even this mild winter has killed half life

A new lockdown is in preparation

Supposedly some danger of clean air

In a large photo in a frame

I hold the chamomile stalks with my toes

I laugh innocently

Not knowing what would follow in the years to come

At the door of a new entrance I think of all these false friendships

I don’t know why, but most are female

They appear as friendly faces, and then disappear without a trace

They change from closeness and openness to those that gnaw bones and bone marrow

In those moments, I think, it's better to do nothing

My final decision, forever, no matter how categorical it may sound.

____________________________________________

10.41 am

December 23, 2021

Thursday

(West London)

The mechanics of the world

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I'm listening to the song White Dress by Lana del Rey

thinking about now probably past dishwasher position

about draining into the sewer

on wiping and disinfecting all possible surfaces

I'm thinking about working during Christmas night

Lana mentions The White Stripes

I think it's over with wearing a striped apron

and safety shoes with leftover food

I feel broken

Herta was fired because she refused to cooperate

she got a job in a factory

she emigrated in 1987 to Germany

I emigrated in 2020 to Britain

I don't seem to understand the mechanics of the world

_________________________________________

finished at 23.13 h

12/22/2021

Wednesday

(West London)

the dumpling in my throat

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

again some drill

breaks through thin walls at seven and seven in the evening

vomit stands (still)

the dumpling in my throat

a woman who did not deign to learn English

talk through one's hat something in Russian - a desperate housewife

she spends all her time at home

and her husband asks me how I can eat when I’m in bed all day

as if only those who move their heads, arms and legs, or / and standing upright eat

swallowed bubbles of mineral water coming down

pushing the dumpling

the drill temporarily stopped breaking through the walls

temporarily, omicron isolation was delayed

to some repeated necrosis of renewed preposterous lockdown

___________________________________

07.07 pm - 07.22 pm

20/12/2021

Monday

(West London, in the room)

dishwasher diary

dreadful woman

 

eight black trolleys of dirty dishes

I ride on jets of black water

leftovers from breakfast and lunch are washed away

like vomit

they stand squeezed above the drain

in a purple or glowing green strainer

 

burned-out – that's how I feel

while she cuts the onion heads separately

one by one

carrots or eggplants

or red and green cabbage

burying me in the fat of toasted sausages

 

the migraine grows and strikes like a hammer

from left to right

forward  - backward

vomit erupts to the surface

body nailed to the bed

 

____________________

 

written around 18.05 h

19/12/2021

Sunday

(Paralysed in bed; West London)