The Goldfish

Heavy snowflakes lash on my face
My breath is heavy
It mushrooms a dense fog around my head
I trudge through the snow
Slowly dragging myself against this rogue wind;
Trails of my footsteps follow me like a ghost
No men…no mice…no moon
No signs of life.
Even the trams, the cars, the old houses
Have gone quiet in a deep slumber —
It’s a cold frosty Polish night.

At a distance
A factory chimney spews white venom in the sky,
Like a giant cigar of an ancient pagan god
Dismal, abysmal — my Polish night
Watches me as I walk alone,
Like the distant nights of Babylon watched me
When I walked the stony lanes of medieval bazaars
In silence, in defiance.
Kingdoms went by,
Wars tore the earth,
I still walk the road
In summer, in winter, in rain.
In search of love. In love.

A tiny goldfish…