Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Maria Barnas

MOMENTS

That someone on waking asks: Can you find the beginning?
That someone is your son.
His hand still warm from sleep.

That time expands in the shape of a star
towards all the instances when things easily came unstuck
or not. The line of moments tears apart.
The plastic groaning and made of whale
or was it rabbit-glue.

Let go!

That someone is a man who laughs
when you ask why are you laughing.
Rolls over.

The blanket speaks: I’m not laughing.

The reality is a roll of sellotape
you hear.

I can’t find the beginning.

Momenten

Momenten

Dat iemand bij het ontwaken vraagt: Kun jij het begin vinden?
Dat iemand je zoon is. 
Zijn hand nog warm van slaap.

Dat de tijd zich stervormig uitstrekt 
naar alle keren dat de dingen zich moeilijk lieten hechten 
of niet. De momentenlijn scheurt uit elkaar. 
Kermend het plastic en van walvis 
of was het konijn de lijm.
Laat los!

Dat iemand een man is die lacht
als je vraagt waarom lach je. 
Zich omrolt.

De deken spreekt: Ik lach niet.

De werkelijkheid is een rolletje plakband
hoor je.

Ik kan het begin niet vinden.
Close

MOMENTS

That someone on waking asks: Can you find the beginning?
That someone is your son.
His hand still warm from sleep.

That time expands in the shape of a star
towards all the instances when things easily came unstuck
or not. The line of moments tears apart.
The plastic groaning and made of whale
or was it rabbit-glue.

Let go!

That someone is a man who laughs
when you ask why are you laughing.
Rolls over.

The blanket speaks: I’m not laughing.

The reality is a roll of sellotape
you hear.

I can’t find the beginning.

MOMENTS

That someone on waking asks: Can you find the beginning?
That someone is your son.
His hand still warm from sleep.

That time expands in the shape of a star
towards all the instances when things easily came unstuck
or not. The line of moments tears apart.
The plastic groaning and made of whale
or was it rabbit-glue.

Let go!

That someone is a man who laughs
when you ask why are you laughing.
Rolls over.

The blanket speaks: I’m not laughing.

The reality is a roll of sellotape
you hear.

I can’t find the beginning.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère