Frida don't come again

Bogdan Tiganov




noone


there's noone upstairs 
they've gone to work 
there's noone outside 
they're hiding 
inside 
the sun beats for nobody 
and nobody looks at the sky




Frida don't come again


I circle round this creature 
this creature 
truly believes 
that it's more arrogant 
than me 

I say ‘don’t you realise 
that you’re invading my universe?’ 

it laughs and I feel drunk 
it speaks but I’m hysterical 
‘it’s not your universe 
you foolish boy!’ 

it has a point 
but I will not give in 
‘the universe shakes 
when I write 
but nobody listens 
to the greatest writer 
of them all’ 
this triumpth is a failure 

it stares at me 
like I’m meat 
meat for it to devour 
‘you’re still too young 
you need more time 
and my work 
has more vision than yours 
I paint with emotion 
I paint with heart 
and without heart 
and what do you do? 
your common words 
on blank paper 
that you lay down fast 
you think that’s great! 
you’re deluding yourself 
look at your genes 
your father 
made the same mistake’ 

I feel 
that 
this monster 
is winning all 
arguments 
‘and you’re better 
with your careful 
brushstrokes 
from the wrist 
and your obsessive 
tears 
and your pain 
who cares 
about your pain? 
or my pain? 
don’t you realise 
that they don’t 
understand?’ 

it grins at me 
‘understand 
understand 
understand 
you and your understanding 
you want to be 
understood 
and then what 
will 
you 
do?’ 

I stop 
and focus 
on my palms 
‘I do not wish 
to be understood 
I don’t want anything 
I just need 
some 
money’ 

‘and what will you 
do 
with this money?’ 

I point my finger 
‘shut up 
you’re no better 
and this is my 
poem 
and I will 
end it 
with my own words’ 

but it holds me 
from ending 
‘just a moment 
they will wonder 
if you can only write 
small poems 
but tell me now 
can you even write?’ 

I’m blushing 
but that’s not a problem 
if we’ve come this far 
‘don’t worry about me 
we’re selfish 
I know 
or don’t know 
ha! 
I can paint too 
I could and I would 
you’ll see 
you can’t write 
as well 
as I can paint!’ 

‘are you sure?’ 

‘no’ 

it closes the gap on me 
and I feel 
its warmth 
its humanity 
its tender voice ‘we’re so 
silly we’re 
so natural 
we 
should 
get on 
no?’ 

I sigh ‘surely you must go now’ 

it dances away 
mesmerising 
but 
it still has 
something 
to say 
‘you 
had 
your 
last 
word’ 

yes


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