Mira Rosenthal

Coffee and Cigarettes

When I began to write, I didn’t know
that poems would transform me, make me into
a weary ghost, constantly sleep-deprived,
with see-through skin, roaming the streets as if

to ride some kind of high and only come down
with rabid dawn, the light finding me still
out wandering and dropping in on friends,
flat broke, a louse, a varmint, summoned by

a flash of naked skin, or just a sigh.
And how was I to know what all these dumb
poems would turn me into, darling, and
that you would summon me to life, that you

would make me visible again, in bed
beside you, waiting till you fall asleep.

From Colonies, Tomasz Rózycki translated by Mira Rosenthal
Polish Copyright © 2013 by Tomasz Rózycki
English Translation and Introduction Copyright © 2013 by Mira Rosenthal