Retouch


My past lies huddled up
far from here,
on the run in a frozen immobility,
documented to pieces,
doctored, amplified, hushed up;
Brezhnev-retouched,
relived & denied
in a rental grave of blue concrete
& neighbor seepage,
the stairwell trampled up & down;
the death masks of the contract-buried illuminated
above model ships under full sail;
the wristwatches engraved
with zeal & probity in the service of the state –

while the itchy busywork of the present
is considerably thinner & piecemeal,
dripping stalactitewise,
stroke-striking, crab-walked
& ingratiatingly becoming
in all its calorie-crawling flesh-bodies




Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 11 times
Written on 2026-08-26 at 11:47

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Albert Vynckier The PoetBay support member heart!
i am never sure of your meaning, I am walking on eggs, It's difficult for me to fix the context, I don't know why, maybe we are far from sharing the same references...but I like it
2026-08-26