I.F. Kobjelska

Rookie (31.5.1991)

The Toes On My Feet Were Blue And Still People Made Me Sick - Poem by I.F. Kobjelska

I wrote a kind of
ready - made poem
as Kolenič says,
but my body
was still digesting
walls,
windows,
door.
Door! So useless because there was no place for me
to curl up and sob
behind them
like women use to do.

There was nowhere a pair of hands
so purely
home - made
that would be able to kill me
from my pop - art living.

I wanted to google for a new nose between my eyes,
friends,
new benches in front of my block of flats.
There was no money for that!
I wanted to drink for those pictures
recorded on walls and in the bodies around,
I wanted to warm up my feet in big slippers.
None of the days fit into trousers.
Everything was
tailor - made.


Comments about The Toes On My Feet Were Blue And Still People Made Me Sick by I.F. Kobjelska

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, March 27, 2013


[Hata Bildir]