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  • The vehicle gives a lurch but seems
    to know its destination.
    In here, antique darkness. I guess at things

    Tremors of muscles communicate
    secrets to me. I am nourished.
    A surge of blood pounding sweet
    blossoms my gentle head.
    I am perfumed wax melted of holy candles
    I am ready to be fingered and shaped.

    This cave unfolds to my nudge, which
    seems gentle but is hard as steel.
    Coils of infinite steel are my secret.
    Within this shadowless cave I am not confused
    I think I am a fish, or a small seal.
    I have an impulse to swim, but without
    moving; she moves and I drift after…
    I am a trout silent and gilled, a tiny seal
    a slippery monster knowing all secrets.
    Where is she off to now? -in high heels.
    I don't like the jiggle of high heels.
    On the street we hear horns, drills, feel sleeves,

    feel rushes of language moving by
    and every stranger has possibly
    my father's face.
    Now we are in bed
    Her heart breathes quiet and I drink blood.
    I am juicy and sweet and coiled.
    Her dreams creep upon me through nightmare slots of windows
    I cringe from them, unready.
    I don't like such pictures.
    Morning… and the safety of the day brings us
    bedroom slippers, good.
    Day at home, comfort in this sac,
    three months from my birthday I dream
    upon songs and eerie music, angels' flutes

    that tear so stern upon earthly anger

    (now they are arguing again)
    Jokes and unjokes, married couple,
    they clutch each other in water
    I feel him nudge me but it is by accident.
    The darkness of their sacs must be slimy with dead tides
    and hide what they knew of ponds and knotty ropes of lilies.
    It forsakes them now, cast into the same bed.
    The tide throws them relentlessly into the same bed.
    While he speaks to her I suck marrow from her bones.
    It has a grainy white taste, a little salty.
    Oxygen from her tremendous lungs tastes white too
    but airy bubbly, it makes me dizzy…!

    She speaks to him and her words do not matter.
    Marrow and oxygen matter eternally. They are mine.
    Sometimes she walks on concrete, my vehicle,
    sometimes on gravel, on grass, on the
    blank worn tides of our floors at home.
    She and he, months ago, decided not to kill me.

    I rise and fall now like seaweed fleshed to fish, a surprise.
    I am grateful.
    I am waiting for my turn.


    Poem by Joyce Carol Oates from collection "Anonymous Sins & Other Poems" (1969).

     

    Creators:

    Rafał Alchimowicz - dancer

    Aleksandra Foltman - dancer

    Edyta Janusz-Ehrlich - actress

    Tatiana Kamieniecka - choreographer

    Adrian Kulesza - dancer

    Marcin Kulwas - producer, author of script and music

    Agata Mieniuk - actress

    Kalina Porazińska - dancer

    Magdalena Płaneta - director