Posted in: Lyric Poetry, poem


Peel off everything around
because I want to write no fulltime employment no savings
nothing to save from money is an abstraction
mingy petty greedy
I think
about the one who talks too much about money

I travel to write
earning nothing while I’m gone and the rent
cannot be put on standby but devours my account
into zero and down
into my overdraft and it happens that the buffer disappears
although I buy nothing eat only oatmeal
they are not going to block my account until
I’m somewhat below my overdraft limit
I know from experience but when they finally do

block my credit card
there I am at the ticket vending machine
unable to go to my meeting because I can’t afford the transport
and there it is the humility
of feeling poor
having to admit even if refunded later I cannot pay now
my poverty on display

although I hope it will pass in a few month’s time
fear is now resignation now envy
I peel of all excess:

the dentist will have to wait
aching teeth will pass with time
new glasses will have to wait
moving into year seven
although scratched enough

to make the world one misty mass
with stars of light when on my bike in the rain
winter boots will have to wait although my toes get wet
and worst of all
new computer will have to wait
although it constantly shuts down

takes hours to restart worst
because the computer
is my livelihood

the lifeline

everything I do depends on its goodwill
being on the same wavelength

my writing

my life

my out

when I travel I feel privileged
my white skin
my welfare state my public health care covering
everything except for teeth and medication
my nine years of education at the university
but when the overdraft has gone and they withdraw
the monthly installment for my student loan
how do I feel then?

Am I still privileged is it
distasteful to feel exposed
when other people in other countries grow up
as street children or in refugee camps
or dying from starvation and wars I have been shielded from?
and what will happen

if it doesn’t pass
if the bank tightens the elastic in my swing
if due to the crisis no one delivers any pieces
for my jigsaw puzzle of income sources
if I can’t pay my rent

no unemployment benefits for people who write, cash aid?
how much could I get for my 4.500 books
today when books are piling up
in curbside recycling bins who
can take care of my cat?

For how long can I sleep over
on the couch of friends and family or in my boyfriend’s bed
before the humility effort imbalance become too heavy?

All my items surrounding me
because they give me a sense of calm
create spaces filled with my memories
my preferences my personality
individually merely material stuff

writing is love is
the core providing meaning and value
but together the items and the space keep
stress and anxiety and detachment at bay
behind we’re just bodies of urges and needs

how many steps

am I from losing

my base my footing from tumbling in free fall into the abyss
with a cat and a phone in my arms

falling where?


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