© 2018 Varga Júlia

Poems I.

Pink Rubber Sack

My body is a pink
rubber sack.
I let you put your
hard parts in it –
and by hard I mean
your thoughts feelings and
which can’t change shape.
Fortunately my pink
rubber sack is elastic so
your hard parts won’t cut
out the surface of it
from the inside.
I can wrap it around your
neck when you are cold
and I can hide it in your
pocket when you are
I can erase dots from
any surface
and I can blow it as
a pink bubble to
fill up a room.
My body is a pink
rubber sack in which I
can carry your mom’s heritage
all the money we try to
spend and those hardly
files I write.
My body is a pink rubber sack.
It does stretch but it doesn’t tear.



I need you  – and
I am so tired of
shouting this too
many times into the far
distance where my
unmotivated brain cells
are having a small
gathering – nothing fancy,
just a casual party – and as
my voice reaches them
they just twinkle to
each other and turn to
me like this: We are all
aware of the fact of our
necessity but, right now,
all we need is that bottle
of vodka, you know.
And I do know.



Jealousy is such a
talented, virtuosic
It plays masterpieces
on my ribs
dictates unbelievable
beats with my finger and
it rolls my eyes like drumsticks.
Skilled as a natural-born
it is jamming on those
sensitive strings of
my brain and on the
chords of my guts
and shaking my knees as
a maraca.
Sings in high-pitched
voice to my ears in a
language I don’t speak
but understand
and press a microphone-like
something down my
It buys a bottle of whiskey and
spreads it to anyone near
snores some coke and
fucks at least once after a show.
It leaves its war-weary
instruments lying around
and always neglect to
collect the fee.
Jealousy is terrible but
overwhelming one-man band
with a multi-channel
But, as it is also unlucky,
I am the manager. And I won’t book
any gig.





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