Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Patricia Ferrel

Casualties

Wounded at my window,
How do I save you? A human touch could
Burst your heart. Tell me what you eat you're so
Special to me because you survived two months on nothing
But insects.

I'm like an animal with no skills
In a well-lit room. What happens when aptitude
Deteriorates? What sound does waste make none,
Over music. The tragedy that would make me a sweetheart
Failed to come.

The new heart didn't take.
Don't show me the face! Don't let me
See the face don't make it personal. The beasts who are
My sole comfort, I will have to eat. No one told me the war was over.
Maybe, probably,

Yes. I remember
Waking up to the saturated with atmosphere.
I remember a fatigue in the trees. Something black flew close
Over our heads carrying a man's entire ribcage when you're not
Occupied with comforting,

You're killing. The thin silver cat
Runs after a pulse of bird. The snow is blind
And will forget the stain. We are trapped in this
Occluded landscape, our pulses tied to a flickering sun.
I need to go

Somewhere I can stare
Into a fire something about a war,
About a train. What do the dead do for an encore?
At what point should I use this body I was trying to save
As a human shield?

juan-moralejo_12

Drawing by Juan Moralejo.

..................................................................

Crash


It will take an accident to bring
All that I love. Some freak
Design must have a hand
In it

One night you and I will crash
Into each other, all trumpet
Concussions and cartoon
Stars

Our bodies locked injurious, in blood
Complicit as newborn twins unable
To distinguish whose fault
Or foot it is

Still gunning the squalling engine,
Announcing our arrival, passing out
Cigars to a world made
Of ears.

..................................................................

Some Resurrection


The wine tastes like Christ and provides
The necessary transformation.

The land of Love and Be Loved in Return
Engorges like a sponge.

Couples run through sunlit fields, giant bees
Hump mammoth flowers.

As long as the wine flows, I'm in love.
As long as I'm loved,

I'll swallow. But is living eternal summer
Really that much fun?

I'll never stop asking, running my mouth,
Listing wants I wouldn't

Want any more if I ever got one.
But Christ! I didn't die

On the cross only to come back to life
And be treated like this.

Read the translation by Noura Wedell

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

  • Silo
  • Charles Pennequin
  • Kilobytes' Patron
  • Les cahiers de benjy
  • Marelle, Pierre Ménard
  • Tapin
  • Sitaudis
  • Toog