Bridge to Global Literature

Let’s all remember that more and more poetry gets lost without earnest attempts at translation.Read poetry here to get a glimpse of the rhythms and resonances of languages you don’t know.

We Don’t Love What We Are – Allan Lake

Feb 4, 2022 | Poetry | 0 comments

I really must dust my writing desk soon
then other surfaces, tops of picture frames,
window sashes, books, book shelves.
Under the bed, where dust is determined
to establish its own state, requires assembling
vacuum and lying on the floor only after
vacuuming same. I have a system.
Presumptuous dust just keeps dropping in
and when I can’t bear its presence any longer,
I ‘dust’ with some spray and a cotton rag.
How can one word be the unwelcome thing
and the act of trying to get rid of it?
I must dust today should mean dispensing
a good shake of it on everything but why
would you do that when, by simply waiting
a day, dust will magically appear and find
its way up my agitated nose, cause sneezing.
That’s dust, invasive in language, in nose.
Like a man resigned, I dedicate myself
to the task of elimination until my place
is shining for too brief a time.
I don’t know who got the scoop but someone
reported that God made the first human
from an unspecified amount of the stuff
so you would think there has to be
some good in it and me for that matter.

__

 

Also read –

The Day and other poems – Shahnaz Rasheed

Allan Lake, originally from Saskatchewan, has lived in Vancouver, Cape Breton, Ibiza, Tasmania, W. Australia & Melbourne. Poetry Collection: ‘Sand in the Sole’ (Xlibris, 2014). Lake won Lost Tower Publications (UK) Comp 2017, Melbourne Spoken Word Poetry Fest 2018 and publication in New Philosopher 2020.

Latest Chapbook (Ginninderra Press 2020) ‘My Photos of Sicily’.

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