Day #429
the business of death is blooming the business of breath is
blooming
the workers are covered
from head to toe in disease if there was more disease there
might be less disease but since there is not less disease there will be no disease or
too much disease
we rub our bodies in bleach we stick ourselves in cages we don’t want to get out of the bathtub we don’t know if we are in the present tense or the past tense we are dancing in our minds we see ourselves having conversations lunch coffee we see ourselves in parks playing with children there are soccer balls and goals and the lake is not the lake and the beach is not the beach and in the middle of the city the streets are breaking open but
this is not the apocalypse it is
normal to want to understand the difference between a body with
this much disease and a body with that much disease but today
the meat is infected the flour is infected the wheat is infected the grain is infected the hand that touches the meat is
infected
the glove that slides onto the hand that touches the meat is
infected
I don’t know what to say when everyone else is saying the same thing
where to go when
I want to avoid the persistent murmur of time and death
this song used to be about a body lost in the desert
this song used to be about a boy trapped in a swimming pool with
fourteen economists who study him for profit for liability for exponential
growth for the ability to understand what
might happen when just a little body is reduced what
might happen when just a little face is reduced what
might happen when just a little weight is reduced just a snip of hair a trim of skin a few finger nails a spit a swab a tooth a touch
this isn’t just a bad dream and
it’s not just a stupid movie and
it’s not just a battle between time and death between the rocks and the lake
between the water and the absence of water
between the lung and the breath
between the child and the body that births it
between the child and the body that loves it
between the mouth and the jaw that holds it
between the wind and the face that feels it
between the heart and the lips and all that you might forget when you die again today and
all that you might remember when you die again today and
all that you might not know when you live again today and all that you might not hear when you breathe again today
the disease sits between us and I cannot touch you anymore I
cannot see you except through a screen and
if you die I might kill you and
if I kill you I might need
to sleep for a very long time I only have five dollars I haven’t had lunch I
don’t know where I can find flour I
don’t know where I can find meat
everything I eat makes me sick
when the creditors call I will
pick up the phone and pretend I am happy to hear from them
I can’t wait to give you my money I am so sorry I can’t pay my bills so sorry I can’t pay the rent
so sorry I can’t breathe through my mouth
I will
miss myself so much when I die will you miss yourself so much
when you die will you miss me
when you disappear into the other language when you
disappear into the other silence when you
disappear into the other mouth when you
disappear into the other body
It is Day #429 and I need five dollars for lunch
I need bus fare
I need money for rent
I need to not be where I am
Daniel Borzutzky is a poet and translator. His latest books are Lake Michigan (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2018), finalist for the 2018 Griffin Poetry Prize; The Performance of Becoming Human (Brooklyn Arts Press, 2016), winner of the 2016 National Book Award for Poetry; and Written After a Massacre in the Year 2018, forthcoming in 2021 from Coffee House Press. His translation of Galo Ghigliotto’s Valdivia won the 2017 National Translation Award. Other translations include Raúl Zurita’s The Country of Planks and Song for His Disappeared Love, and Jaime Luis Huenún’s Port Trakl. He teaches in the English and Latin American and Latino Studies Departments at the University of Illinois.
