
Two Poems
by Maciej Baltruszewicz
Astral Curfew
My parents and I had never discussed a curfew;
I didn’t think that they would jail me like that. And yet,
there seemed to linger the unpronounced souring
whisper of a promise I didn’t know I had made. I found
myself wishing for benediction; an instantaneous
transposition into another man’s body, older
and rugged. I liked to think of that other me—
the astral self—running through and from the night
with you, living out the love I wanted; minor key
broken and fallen off the piano, crunched under
the boot of this handsome dark prince
whilst his child-self lay asleep in a narrow bed. I hope
he was enough to keep you along, my own
fiction-sweet creation. And maybe you didn’t know
this, but in between kisses at the old, red, rusted
shipping container, he would cry at the moon,
from frustration that freedom would have to be stolen
to be had at all.
Glycerine Boy
Calpol-cap-white dunes of salt
swirl beneath my feet—bundled
in bin-bags with memory foam
for insulation. The salt, of course,
is really snow, but the bin-bag
shoes are real. O my friends,
see how you’ve left me—
here, watching this snow-storm
thrum with doom. My sight
has become granular. I can only see
through shards at a time. The icicles
once stiff on your breaths
I now keep folded in a burlap sack
thrown over my shoulder, the points
pricking my back through the fabric—
I suck on them for empty calories,
sometimes. My tongue peeks out in search
of warmth but tastes only bitterness.
Final meal call, says an imaginary
intercom woman. Please, a bottle
of glycerine, I say back. Not so filling,
but I won’t need my hunger sated
for much longer now—I would rather
my tongue sugared than my life
warmed. C’mere glycerine boy, they’ll say,
searching. Your time has come to see
the sun. Only then, when they find me,
I won’t be much more than the sticky
slab of ice that sweetened himself cold.
Maciej Baltruszewicz is a Polish-born writer. In 2022, he completed a Bachelor of Arts in English and Spanish at the University of Galway, and is currently at work on a first collection of poems. Some of his poetry is forthcoming in La Piccioletta Barca. He grew up and lives in Co. Galway, Ireland.