Patchwork

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We will survive - you see time heals wounds.

We will meet - light is the same on all...

Alive or dead, sober or drunk -

once again you will be my love.

Like damp grass, like grey-blue air,

like my own dying in my dream,

like the sea shore with the stone cornice

of the wave, like the solitary light at the window.

Like the wind at night loves the bottom of the ravine.

like that camel loves the eye of the needle,

like the body the final shirt

apart from which there is nothing.

And I will come to in the madhouse or the grave,

in this world or the next,

where wings rumpled in handshakes

will close secretly behind your shoulder.

And no, sadness is not a shadow, but a butterfly

of the night, whose flesh the mirrors multiply,

and it bursts the cobweb

and struggles down and floats then

to the cold flower of the table lamp,

and it is no more: the glass has melted.

You will realise that you are alone,

and that you yourself have been talking to yourself for a long time.

 

 

Without Addressee by Katia Kapovich,

from the anthology Poet for Poet edited by Richard McKane.

more from Katia here via 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Outfit:

 

Flower panelled dress: from Oxfam online

 

Vintage 70s striped panelled skirt: my mother's

Black wool cardigan: charity shop

Blue belt: very old, from Topshop
 

Bracelets: late granny Penny's

 

Daffodils: from the garden, tight buds outside in the cold, their flowers open when we bring them indoors

 

Patchwork bedspread made from vintage material: made by late granny Kiki for me when she was in her 80s. It includes scraps of material from her couturier days, and also leftover fabric from her own and my mother's wedding dresses.

 

The Soundtrack:

 

Rimsky Korsakov: Scheherazade op.35



Photographs taken by me using the self timer on my little digital camera