THE NOTARY Poem by Gerrit Komrij

To start with, my life must be tidied up.
The contract stipulates explicitly.
I think of cloths, sponge, broom and foaming suds.
Instead of which a notebook's what I see.

A notary spoons into it the brains
From my skull-pan. Each time this is repeated
- Along with all the false and crudely framed -
His archiving leaves me the more depleted.

This is the way that fakirs and ascetics
Enable hidden powers to be refloated.
‘What's fixed for good can safely be neglected,'
He says. I have his blessing. Duly noted.