School of Unhabituation

The curtain—against the animals of moods
a cobweb because of the world.

The spider
                 of my room
                                    is hitched to it
“soir—espoir”
and besides—it’s getting light

At night
           to touch a chair’s shape—
           to strum any line of a straw mattress—
           to taste a dry crumb of ceiling—
they drop in flocks
everything that connects
like moths—
whatever you think up.
So many! So many!
Until we too spin and—
cry out (I, the stove, the mattresses):
“Angels—angels
come sit on the wall
                      right here!!!”

They sit.
They sing a scale:
                           hy
                                po
                                     the
                                          ses
                                               of
                                                    rea
                                                         li
                                                            ty
                                                            rea
                                                         li
                                                    ty
                                               of
                                          hy
                                     po
                                the
                           ses
——The spider of my room is hitched to it
and besides—it’s getting light.
  
Empty eyes blink the curtain.
Now there’s just—predestination
the veil of Ananke—   
or the goddess of exhaustion
send me whatever just not
things trapped in habituation.
 
Translated from the Polish

Notes:

Copyright Notice: First published in English by New York Review Books, Translation Copyright © 2024 by Clare Cavanagh and Michał Rusinek.

Audio poem performed by Clare Cavanagh.

Read the Polish-language original, “Szkola nieprzyzwyczajenia,” and the translator’s note by Clare Cavanagh.

Source: Poetry (September 2023)