At the end of the mind there is anesthesia.
At the end of the mind there is a discotheque.
Supper with a portrait of your great grandpa, suddenly alive.
An idiot flies by in a balloon and plays a fife.
On the edge of space, under a palm,
stands a gingerbread house, on hen’s legs.
On the edge of space there is the North Pole:
a day half a year long, snow, sleds glide beyond the horizon.
At the end of the mind there is a porn film:
your poor fantasy projected on a screen over and over
(whether you were fond of it or not,
whether you planned to fulfill it or not) –
did you really believe no one knew?
On the edge of space there is a cottage, and a shelling of peas.
Oh my, it’s stuffy, a storm’s coming.
At the end of the mind a fly buzzes, Emily.
At the end of the mind a dog barks.
It barks, it barks, it barks,
baring fangs and gums. It tears at the chain, the chain grinds.
The image and the sound, and later only the sound:
a dog barks, a dog barks – through eternity.
Samantha Kitsch is the pen name of a NY-based poet who was born in Poland and writes in Polish. Samantha has published eight books of poems in Poland, including konfiskata konfetti, as well as numerous poems in major Polish literary magazines.