Katarzyna Borun-Jagodzinska
Medea Has Forgotten How to Cry
Only bunches of poisonous herbs
and hearth smoke
call forth a trickle of tears.
Clumps of salt
crust her lashes.
Nothing remains
of those distant sins
but the finger of her little brother
in the pocket of her robe.
It’s wrapped in a scrap of letter
telling her she need wait no longer.
(Translated from the Polish by Karen Kovacik)
Katarzyna Borun-Jagodzinska
Tenant
This big guy went crazy.
He wears ribbed stockings with silver threads,
says Kiss me hard, and holds out his hand.
He has smooth skin and firm muscles.
Love knows no bounds of sex and species.
You’re so soft, says the hard mattress.
You’re so good, says the white wall.
You’re faithful, whispers the keyhole.
You’re faithful, repeats the boxsprings.
I love your kisses, says the old teacup—
In those four walls, so many innuendoes, protests.
Faithfully the guy cleans the room.
The room rubs his dusty eyes, holds him tight,
touches nerves, bones,
takes him in more fully than anyone.
This big guy went crazy.
And again he refuses to leave the house.
(Translated from the Polish by Karen Kovacik)
Katarzyna Borun-Jagodzinska
Babes in the Woods
Every murmur of the night
still scares us,
every flutter of sleepless birds.
Rustling noises disturb our slumber,
cause our dreams to flee.
The city howls in voices
neither human nor animal,
but from birth we learned
to tame that monster.
We tamed it,
but one false step, one alien scent—
and the beast leaps to our throats.
(Translated from the Polish by Karen Kovacik)
