Construction site

I am trying to unravel

the mysteries of my mind

on an airplane.

Trace my mirrored image in the sea below,

make a plan for when the ground arrives.

It is here,

in the spaces

in between places where

I stumble.

Feet struggle to touch the skin

of the earth

again.

And I know

about this,

and about the landing.

About the building of a home

out of nothing with my bare hands.

It is just,

I can not remember,

Like the times I’ve washed my hair today

The texture of shampoo.

And I know

I will let you

talk to me.

Let your words burst through my skull

resonate between the walls

of my thoughts.

Maybe they will

replace my homesickness

with city maps.

I am trying to unravel

the mysteries of my mind

on an airplane.

Clenching my fists when I think of

the cold

of yet another winter.

But I will

let you talk to me

and replay your voice

like a tape recorder,

when it rains on my construction site.

Het is genoeg te weten

Zoals ik wakker naast je word is
het net alsof het
zo al jaren gaat:
Mijn tandenborstel in je
badkamer laten staan,
de deken over
mijn schouder slaan,
twee koppen koffie maken en
ik schrijf mijn initialen op  je
deur, je ramen, een fotolijstje.
Ik hoor niet eens dat ik het
van je vraag.

Terwijl je mijn naam verkreukt
als de wit geworden handdoek in je hoek,
een boek dichtslaat.
Je kust me zoals een timmerman spijkers
hamert en ik ga.
Het is genoeg te weten dat
je niet bestaat.

Damsels in distress

Disney told me he could be

the other half of me.

I spent hours

waiting in a tower

for him and

for his superpowers,

to cling to my braid,

to climb,

the walls of brick

surrounding me.

I watched the world pass

me by. I

combed my locks

a hundred times.

Arranging perfumes in a line

I thought I was fine but

Eleanor

grew stronger, -

Rigby fed on cotton candy dreams.

I need you

not to feed me.

Sitting on a shelf

I read the books as well.

Sang myself asleep through

other minds.

Tell me something new

Sing about

the other side:

people dance the dark away

on dimly lit dancefloors.

The more I fed myself

The less I felt the need

for you to complete me.

Cut my hair

took a sword and the stairs

soaked up the air.

Teacups

The dust in this fridge and

the lack of eggs on shelves,

of sunlight through window blinds,

of whiteness on bathroom tiles.

Wisps of hairs on stairs.

I do not recognize

the color nor the shape of these curls. 

The blankets on your bed.

crumpled and creased

permeated by the

sweaty smell of your sleep.

Socks in corners.

Socks on your floor.

‘Please buy a wardrobe.

Like normal people.’

We decided not to fight about trivial matters

And so we wake up silently.

Where are you?

I ask and

you stare at my forehead

'I came unprepared' you say

Please, tell me

you care.

I convince myself you cannot express this,

There must lie a truth

behind the signs. 

There must be more under this

meaningless surface.

The weak grip 

of our hearts and hands.

I try to love your voice and

the sound of your words.

The way you move.

I want to bend your back,

rearrange your eyebrows and

your furniture.

I want to decide on what you eat.

You will not let me

drive your car when it’s dark.

I sing hoarsely to traffic lights

on the way home.

My eyes adjust to kitchen lamps

the cups of the tea we drank.

Cannot fill up this dishwasher.

I rinse the signs of our togetherness

with water.

Aanraken

Die nacht bleven we

drinken. Ik dacht dat het de wijn was

die deed duizelen:

het was wat we geworden waren

en dat we je vriendin vergaten,

kleiner maakten.

We groeiden groter,

onze schoenen en

onze kleren uit.

Je haren hadden vlamgevat:

het vuur zag zwart van het groen

en van het

grijsdraaien van platen.

Duisternis stond besluiteloos

achter het glas

de dag lag zwijgend

op het dak.

Het was gemakkelijk:

het schuiven van gordijnen,

een deur vergrendelen.

Je was onmogelijk

niet aan te raken. 

Our dresses

We wore tight skirts and dresses

to philosophy class.

And we participated.

O God,

how much we participated.

‘Do not stop thinking

keep wide awake.’

We reminded ourselves

as the dawn broke the day.

How beautifully thin we got.

Now our dresses could be tighter

and shorter.  

Among the rambling sounds of cityscapes,

the sights of fleeting images,

our heads exploded.

Parts of our brains left stains

on the frames

of the glass of

his glasses.

She had left him.

All he had left of her was

us.

All that was left of us

was

that body underneath

the dress.

He counted our freckles, our

bones until

it bored him.

Until

his gaze rested upon

another statue.  

The days were getting shorter when

we started sleeping.

We slept and slept and slept.

O God, how much we slept.

We kept the curtains closed.

We found ourselves waking up.

And the sunbeams drawing

patterns on our sheets.

Less sharp now, but we were

clearly seeing

the faces in the streets.

And it took a long time, but

a while until  

we found our smile back in

tv-commercials

our heads back

in our beds.