Martine van Bijlert
dear Mr Carson
apparently I want to
talk to a man
Mr Carson
a suit a swagger
a head of the table
can I call you something else
can I call you Mr Cartilage
like a car suspension
or long bony fingers
am I dawdling Mr Carson
Mr Camper Van
Mr Crop Catcher
I can’t even yell at you
Mr Maximum Growth
now that we’ve walked
the same corridors sat at
the same tables Mr Grapevine dear
I don’t want to know where your
doors are Mr Carson or your elevators
where you get your coffee and how
you’re passed through security
with a joke and a flourish
I want to erase the memory of badges
Mr Keynote Speaker dear
Mr Self-deprecating
Introduction
I want to wash it off
and start all over
I want to wash you off
and start all over
Babel wasn’t hit but my town was
when your house is struck by fire
and you’re running out of harm’s way
be careful where you look
especially
if you’re married to a man
who worries about the honour of his guests
especially
if you’re the mother of girls
who were almost handed over
why do we keep passing these stories around
keep scraping off the bits that hurt
as if there must
be a lesson somewhere
never the guests of honour
never the ones to greet the guests
or talk to God or tell the family:
this is what we’re doing
but
offered up and left behind
struck dumbfounded
by salt pillar lightning
to the wall and back
(Ahwaz 1978)
it must’ve been David Tonks
I was racing
hands
rigid like blades
that slice the air
still he was gaining on me
faster faster
until I hit
the wall
I’d forgotten about
blood thick and red
on my glasses
later on
the blaring horns
of a traffic jam
cloth to my head
to keep the bleeding in
pleased by the gesture
women in black chadors
yelled at a policeman and
adult me wants to
know which park it was
did I know we were
leaving
wild dogs and tar-tipped
reed-spears
sounds of shooting
do our bodies remember
the jolt
when our minds just
keep going
apparently I want to
talk to a man
Mr Carson
a suit a swagger
a head of the table
can I call you something else
can I call you Mr Cartilage
like a car suspension
or long bony fingers
am I dawdling Mr Carson
Mr Camper Van
Mr Crop Catcher
I can’t even yell at you
Mr Maximum Growth
now that we’ve walked
the same corridors sat at
the same tables Mr Grapevine dear
I don’t want to know where your
doors are Mr Carson or your elevators
where you get your coffee and how
you’re passed through security
with a joke and a flourish
I want to erase the memory of badges
Mr Keynote Speaker dear
Mr Self-deprecating
Introduction
I want to wash it off
and start all over
I want to wash you off
and start all over
Babel wasn’t hit but my town was
when your house is struck by fire
and you’re running out of harm’s way
be careful where you look
especially
if you’re married to a man
who worries about the honour of his guests
especially
if you’re the mother of girls
who were almost handed over
why do we keep passing these stories around
keep scraping off the bits that hurt
as if there must
be a lesson somewhere
never the guests of honour
never the ones to greet the guests
or talk to God or tell the family:
this is what we’re doing
but
offered up and left behind
struck dumbfounded
by salt pillar lightning
to the wall and back
(Ahwaz 1978)
it must’ve been David Tonks
I was racing
hands
rigid like blades
that slice the air
still he was gaining on me
faster faster
until I hit
the wall
I’d forgotten about
blood thick and red
on my glasses
later on
the blaring horns
of a traffic jam
cloth to my head
to keep the bleeding in
pleased by the gesture
women in black chadors
yelled at a policeman and
adult me wants to
know which park it was
did I know we were
leaving
wild dogs and tar-tipped
reed-spears
sounds of shooting
do our bodies remember
the jolt
when our minds just
keep going
Copyright © February 2024 Martine van Bijlert
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Martine van Bijlert is a mixed media poet, novelist and non-fiction writer, who grew up in Iran, lives in the Netherlands and in between worked as an aid worker, researcher and diplomat, mostly in Afghanistan. Their poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Beloit Poetry Journal, Otis Nebula, Olney Magazine, Pangyrus Lit Mag, Consequence Forum, Tiny Spoon, Tiny Wren, NonBinary Review, Split Rock Review, Oyster River Pages and other places.
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