Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Joke van Leeuwen

Fire and Water

The chairs are ankle-deep inside, drawers
filled with former lives are damaged, it’s raining
in the stairwell where the weather was so lovely.
The fragile gift from him or her is cracked
the cupboards badly charred, the doors are warped
and will not close, handwriting’s run

into illegibility. And look here comes the loss
adjuster to pry and note which goods are good
and which are not – but what about what can’t be
read, how can you tell if that was legible or not
before it started swimming, let alone, um, the . . .
And what goes off would have as well.

But money comes for new devices and
forget-about-it paint. The plastic tablecloth
cheese grater, books, bent reading lamp and
school notebooks, the bundled letters
the chairs with their legs in the air
the soggy photos of a party with goers

(repudiated Zeitgeist matted in their hair)
in short the personal effects that bore the brunt
can go into the skip. And early next morning
the scavenger shows up to rummage through the lot
and grab the things he thinks are worth a bob or two.
He takes the roll of council garbage bags.

VUUR EN WATER

VUUR EN WATER

De stoelen pootjebaden binnen, laden vol
levenswandel worden aangevreten, het regent
in het trapgat waar het zulk mooi weer was.
Het ooit gekregen breekbaars barst, de kasten
raken zwaar geblakerd, geen deur past in zijn
post, het handgeschrevene lekt

tot onleesbaar weg. En zie daar komt de
schadespecialist die op zal schrijven wat waar
nog van waarde nu – maar dat onleesbaars
hoe kan men bepalen of het leesbaar was
voor het begon te drijven, laat staan de . . . eh.
En wat bederven zal zou anders ook.

Maar er is geld voor nieuwe apparaten en
vergeetverf ja. Het plastic tafelkleed, de
rasp, de boeken, scheve nachtlamp, schriften
van school, bijeengebonden brieven
de stoelen met hun pootjes in de lucht
de natte foto’s van een feest met vierders

(verworpen tijdgeest klit nog in de haren)
kortom het roerend goed dat zelf niet weg
kon komen kan de container in. En
’s morgens vroeg: daar kruipt een kruimelaar
die pakken wil wat hij van waarde acht.
Hij kiest de rol gemeentevuilniszakken.
Close

Fire and Water

The chairs are ankle-deep inside, drawers
filled with former lives are damaged, it’s raining
in the stairwell where the weather was so lovely.
The fragile gift from him or her is cracked
the cupboards badly charred, the doors are warped
and will not close, handwriting’s run

into illegibility. And look here comes the loss
adjuster to pry and note which goods are good
and which are not – but what about what can’t be
read, how can you tell if that was legible or not
before it started swimming, let alone, um, the . . .
And what goes off would have as well.

But money comes for new devices and
forget-about-it paint. The plastic tablecloth
cheese grater, books, bent reading lamp and
school notebooks, the bundled letters
the chairs with their legs in the air
the soggy photos of a party with goers

(repudiated Zeitgeist matted in their hair)
in short the personal effects that bore the brunt
can go into the skip. And early next morning
the scavenger shows up to rummage through the lot
and grab the things he thinks are worth a bob or two.
He takes the roll of council garbage bags.

Fire and Water

The chairs are ankle-deep inside, drawers
filled with former lives are damaged, it’s raining
in the stairwell where the weather was so lovely.
The fragile gift from him or her is cracked
the cupboards badly charred, the doors are warped
and will not close, handwriting’s run

into illegibility. And look here comes the loss
adjuster to pry and note which goods are good
and which are not – but what about what can’t be
read, how can you tell if that was legible or not
before it started swimming, let alone, um, the . . .
And what goes off would have as well.

But money comes for new devices and
forget-about-it paint. The plastic tablecloth
cheese grater, books, bent reading lamp and
school notebooks, the bundled letters
the chairs with their legs in the air
the soggy photos of a party with goers

(repudiated Zeitgeist matted in their hair)
in short the personal effects that bore the brunt
can go into the skip. And early next morning
the scavenger shows up to rummage through the lot
and grab the things he thinks are worth a bob or two.
He takes the roll of council garbage bags.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère