Katja Grcić

- Croatia -

Katja Grcić is a poet, playwright and essayist born in 1982 in Split, and currently based in Zagreb. She holds three MA degrees – in English and German studies and Dramaturgy. She has published two poetry collections to this date: the debut Nosive konstrukcije (Load-bearing Walls, 2015) and bilingual collection Ljeto/Summer in 2017, followed by a poetic prose hybrid Pisma Ziti (Letters to Zita) in 2020. In 2020 her monodrama Proljeće naše zlovolje (The Spring of Our Discontent) was published in magazine Kazalište and staged as part of Monovid-19 project at ZKM Theatre in Zagreb. She has won several awards for drama, including the prestigious Marin Držić Prize (2019) for her piece Strah tijela od poda (Body’s Fear of the Floor). She has received various artistic grants. Her poetry has been published in international magazines like Pobocza (PL), Signaturen (DE) and Perspektiven (AT), and presented at Frankfurt Book Fair, Babelsprech conference as well as international festivals like Polip (Kosovo) and Goran’s Spring (Croatia).

Katja Grcić is a poet, playwright and essayist currently based in Zagreb, Croatia. She holds three MA degrees – in English and German studies (University of Zadar) and Dramaturgy (Academy of Dramatic Arts, Zagreb). As the holder of Tempus scholarship, she attended the Centre for Translation Studies in Vienna, as well as the Südost programme at University of Graz. As an independent researcher she has published two scientific papers: Politics of Fear and Solidarity Mechanisms in Documentary Theatre: Staging Asylum in ‘6’ by Žiga Divjak and Encounters in Other Places: Performative Heterotopia in ‘The Labour of Panic’ by BADco. She translates from German and English.

Her debut poetry collection Nosive konstrukcije (Load-bearing Walls) was published in 2015, The irony as the “macrostructural figure” (I. Šunjić) and questioning of the medium of language (M. Pogačar) in her debut was later followed by the senses-oriented bilingual, self-translated collection Ljeto/Summer which appeared in 2017. As a central focal point of the collection critic Branko Maleš detects desire, placed in the “mythical season of summer” and intertwined with humor and melancholy.

In 2020 she published her poetic prose hybrid Pisma Ziti (Letters to Zita). Bachelardian elements of this feministic text and the spatiality of the rooms as “the ambiance 3D portraits” (M. Božić) are used to create “powerful and impressive visuals” (A. Tomljenović) throughout the text. “In pursuit of meaning and personal definition of freedom”, adds Tomljenović, “the author develops the set of contemplative scenes, all while brilliantly describing the characters in just a few words or sentences.” In 2020 her monodrama Proljeće naše zlovolje (The Spring of Our Discontent) was published in magazine Kazalište (Vol. XXIII No.81/82/83) and staged as part of Monovid-19 project at ZKM Theatre in Zagreb.

Katja has received various artistic grants, most notably the one by the Croatian Ministry of Culture and Media in 2020 and the Zora Dirnbach grant for scriptwriters in 2021. She has won several awards for drama, including the prestigious Marin Držić Prize (2019) for her piece Strah tijela od poda (Body’s Fear of the Floor). Her prose was shortlisted for the Sedmica Prize in 2017 and her recent poetry was shortlisted for the Drago Gervais Prize in 2021. Her poetry has been published in international magazines like Pobocza (PL), Signaturen (DE) and Perspektiven (AT), and presented at Frankfurt Book Fair, Babelsprech conference as well as international festivals like Polip (Kosovo) and Goran’s Spring (Croatia).

Katja’s artistic and scientific fields of interest currently revolve around subversive aspects of fairy tales, textile in visual and performative arts, contemporary dance, value criticism, ecofeminism, dramaturgies in public space, political theatre, solidarity narratives and spatial theories. She has been regularly publishing essays covering the abovementioned themes, as well as book-length translations from German and English. The poems presented at the Versopolis webpage are a part of her new, still unfinished poetry manuscript, demonstrating a certain shift in the dominant poetic strategies, as well as more direct treatment of the referent world, sharper critic of its hegemonic mechanisms and an urge for a lyrical intervention in the still-steaming remains of a society. The verses are still unpublished in the original language, and are appearing here for the first time.

More about the poet

Poetry

north node / sjeverni čvor

I’ve sat into the north node: a dark, cold and lasting place.
dependent clauses protest in cursive –
like drunken women they lean forward and finally speak the truth.
yet, the paper form is paltry – a trapping, a decorative
stencil into which I press all kinds of things:
Ludwig II, the woman who took the cloth,
plié I learnt at twenty-one.
I stumble on my own territory.
I listen to the petals falling off lilies.
women have foregone dresses, but not the crown.
instead of a sceptre,
here’s fasting and heresy: leave self not for a week.
we shall decant all things and turn:
air into froth, water into wine,
capricorn into cancer,
man into woman.
Translated by Mirza Purić
sjela sam u sjeverni čvor: tamo je hladno, mračno i dugoročno.
nesamostalne rečenice prosvjeduju kurzivom -
nagnu se kao pijane žene i konačno govore istinu.
pa ipak, papir je bijedna forma - ukrasna, dekorativna
šablona u koju utiskujem štošta:
Ludwiga drugog, ženu koja se zaredila,
plié koji sam naučila u dvadeset i prvoj.
spotičem se o vlastiti teritorij.
slušam latice kako opadaju s ljiljana.
žene su se odrekle haljina, ali ne i krune. umjesto žezla,
evo ti post i hereza: ne izlazi iz sebe tjedan dana.
sve ćemo rastočiti i pretvoriti:
vodu u vino, zrak u pjenu, jarca u raka,
muškarca u ženu.
only verse is free / samo je stih slobodan

no hugs to be had
except those free of charge
I struggle with dialectics it struggles with me
Matija why did you lose weight
don’t say mishap

I’m a dislocated triangle they pushed into the theorem
and said: stay there,
we’ll return –
they never did

I confess to God almighty
and to you brethren:
I miss no one
yet
something
somewhere
persistently mum
can’t seem to say

I’m earth, I need air
Translated by Mirza Purić
nigdje zagrljaja osim onih besplatnih
mučim se s dijalektikom i ona sa mnom
matija zašto si smršavio
nemoj reći slučajno

ja sam iščašeni trokut kojeg su ugurali u teorem i rekli mu: tu stoj,
vratit ćemo se -
ali nisu

ispovijedam se bogu svemogućemu
i vama braćo:
nitko mi ne nedostaje
ali
nešto
negdje
uporno šuti
nikako da kaže

zemlja sam, treba mi zrak
oxymoron / oksimoron

forest, where once was sea.
park, where once were graves.
what’s walled us in, do flowers grow within?
I can never tell
flora from fauna.
every time I dream of you, something spills.
after meat, I clean my teeth with a knife (as did my forebears).
I invoke words which all understand
the most emotionally charged ones:
love, family, fabric.
I know nothing of a pentagram in the baptistery.
when children lie, means they’re afraid.
when grown-ups lie, means they’re afraid.
I like to believe I’m wiser than the day before
and that I know more.
oxymoron, an absent presence.
Translated by Mirza Purić
šuma, gdje je bilo more.
park, gdje je bilo groblje.
čime smo zazidani, raste li iz toga cvijeće?
od flore i faune
nikad ne znam koja je koja.
uvijek kad te sanjam nešto se prolije.
nakon mesa, zube čistim nožem (tako su radili moji stari).
pozivam se na riječi koje svi razumiju
i koje imaju najjači emocionalni naboj:
ljubav, obitelj, platno.
ne znam ništa o pentagramu u krstionici.
kad djeca lažu, to znači da se boje.
kad odrasli lažu, to znači da se boje.
volim vjerovati da sam mudrija nego jučer
i da znam više.
oksimoron, to je zimsko ljetovanje.
chrysanthemum / krizantema

he says chrysanthemum
I get over him instantly.
she turns chauvinism into an event:
always invites her girlfriends.

I used to once, but no more.
you’re blooming Simone, but scentlessly.
Petra, you’re a rock and on it I shall build
a kindergarten, a hospital and a bird house.

to be kind all the time?
no, thank you.
und für Sie?
nein, danke.
no, thank you.

the I in the poem menstruates.

if anyone asks,
I’ll say chrysanthemum.
Translated by Mirza Purić
on kaže krizantema
i ja ga odmah prebolim.
ona od šovinizma radi event:
uvijek pozove sve svoje prijateljice.

nešto sam nekoć, ali ne više.
rascvjetala si se Simone, ali ne mirišeš.
Petra, ti si stijena i na toj stijeni sagradit ću
vrtić, bolnicu i kuću za ptice.

to be kind all the time?
no, thank you.
a za vas?
isto ne bi'.
no, thank you.

lirski subjekt menstruira.

ako me tko pita,
ja ću reći krizantema.
Ofelia fell off her bike / Ofelija je pala s bicikla

Ofelia fell off her bike and
the asphalt wove itself into her face
five Roman emperors swore to kindness
a blade of grass wished it were a rock
a stone finally took flight, without wings
or awareness of the portentousness of the act
blood is warm only when fresh
the soul is a butterfly in a national park,
protected, without knowing
when you come, you bring me gifts
the cloud is empty, the ground cracks under the pilgrims’ feet
holy is the place where we part ways
Translated by Mirza Purić
Ofelija je pala s bicikla i
asfalt se utkao u njezino lice
pet je rimskih careva prisegnulo na dobrotu
jedna je travka poželjela biti kamen
jedan je kamen konačno poletio, bez krila
i svijesti o zloslutnosti tog čina
krv je topla samo kada je svježa
duša je leptir u nacionalnom parku,
zaštićen, a da to ni ne zna
kad dolaziš, donosiš mi darove
oblak je prazan, tlo puca pod nogama hodočasnika
sveto je mjesto na kojem se rastajemo
to let things go to hell / puštati stvari da idu k ͜vragu

to let things go to hell and return crestfallen and unstable,
to wait for him to: translate Faustus, mine residual ore, charter a city.
to grow your hair long in the meantime, wrap it round the world like a noose,
to be the menace of blue, a sad woman with swollen breasts.
to learn about stylistic devices:
eschew grandstanding, greed, gluttony, alliteration,
almost fuck up and give in to each one.
accept a thousand partial solutions till one appears walking on water.
like a shelter dog be afraid of the bicycle and the refuse bin,
rest on the floor, in a corpse pose, halfway from here to hanging (people
change their mind when there’s no going back)
I’m losing my talent for eroticism, becoming a scoliosis in a porno,
taking sorrow to what’s not the place at what’s not the time,
people don’t add me, they mostly subtract me, you’re too multiplied, they say
you come as Pi, constantly irrational,
who can put up with that now,
we have issues at the office, you have issues in your head.
I miss the sea (when you dive in, you never change your mind)
Translated by Mirza Purić
puštati stvari da idu k ͜vragu i da se od njega vrate pokunjene i nestabilne,
čekati da on: prevede Fausta, iskopa zaostale rude, osnuje grad.
pustiti kosu u međuvremenu i njome omotati svijet poput omče,
biti prijeteća nježnost plavetnila, tužna žena kojoj su nabrekle grudi.
učiti o stilskim figurama:
izbjegavati zavist, zlobu, zajedljivost i aliteraciju,
zamalo se zajebati oko svake od tih stavki.
pristajati na tisuće polovičnih rješenja sve dok se jedno ne ukaže kako hoda po vodi.
poput psa iz azila plašiti se bicikle i kante za smeće,
odmoriti na podu, u položaju mrtvaca, na pola puta od smrti vješanjem (svi se predomisle u trenu kad više nema povratka)
gubim talent za erotiku, postajem skolioza u pornografskom filmu,
donosim tugu gdje joj nije ni mjesto ni vrijeme,
ljudi me ne dodaju, uglavnom me oduzimaju, previše si pomnožena kažu,
dolaziš kao Pi s tim nebrojenim decimalama,
tko to trenutno može podnijeti,
mi imamo probleme u uredima, a ti u glavi.
fali mi more (u moru se nikad ne predomisliš)
sister: / sestra:

sister:
came in a strange form and rather late.
mother had already turned sixty.
still, a sister.
she was all I’d (itsjustanexpression) dreamt of.
beautiful, soft, with thick curly hair.
ready to play. and play we did:
she put her hand in my hair her tongue
in my mouth her finger
in my cornea
and said, these are the rules:
pronouns he/him be
what I want you to be submit
don’t touch my
breasts fuck off.
desire – enemy territory, a stern hamartia.
I pull myself out, lungs full of water, pull myself out.
mother says: now, then? isn’t that the sister you wanted, eh?
what now? don’t like her? no pleasing you…
I pretend not to hear.
for days on end, I sit on the rock pulling the arrow out of my neck:
if I’m a deer, I’ll bleed to death
I’ll turn pink, if I’m the sky
if I’m a woman, ( )
where do I go now?
Translated by Mirza Purić
sestra:
došla je u čudnom obliku i dosta kasno.
majka je već bila prešla šezdesetu.
pa ipak, sestra.
bila je sve o čemu sam (tosetakokaže) sanjala.
lijepa, bujne kovrčave kose, meka.
spremna za igru. pa smo se igrale:
stavila je ruku u moju kosu jezik
u moja usta prst
u moju rožnicu
i rekla, ovo su pravila:
zovi me on budi
što zamislim pokori
se ne diraj mi
grudi odjebi.
želja, tuđa teorija, stroga i tragična pogreška.
vadim se van puna vode, pluća puna vode, vadim se van.
majka kaže: što je? nije li to sestra za kojom si toliko čeznula, ha?
što je sad? ne sviđa ti se? tko bi tebi ugodio…
pravim se da je ne čujem.
danima sjedim na stijeni i vadim strijelu iz vrata:
ako sam jelen, iskrvarit ću
ako sam nebo, poružičastit ću
ako sam žena, ( )
kamo ću?
centring / centriranje

you’ve been centring yourself,
for ten, twenty years, or more.
you traverse precarious ground;
you check mate both the king and the queen
but the game is forever drawn.
you sit violently somehow
as you read about Saturn and female sexuality.
systematically, you silence yourself.
you bring God to a boil
then pour him into revocable moulds.
unstoppably, you condense.
you cannot sleep,
but at least you’re in no hurry.
you live in a tense expressing
a state of being before a state of being
but after its aftermath.
when everyone changes their mind at once,
that’s pronounced trebuchet, spelt
metamorphosis of intent.
stop flailing your genitive – after all
we all walk hanging from the same question
where are my slippers
or
how to love,
what to love with
you know, this is how I picture it:
at the break of dawn
I go out barefoot on the balcony,
and what do I find – a revolution:
while we slept, the world bedewed itself.
Translated by Mirza Purić
dugo se namještaš,
deset, dvadeset godina, možda i duže.
pomjeraš se na svim prolaznim mjestima;
matiraš i kralja i kraljicu
ali ostane neriješeno zauvijek.
sjediš nekako nasilno
dok čitaš o Saturnu i ženskoj seksualnosti.
sistemski se sve više stišavaš.
zagrijavaš boga dok ne prokuha
potom ga izlijevaš u kalupe koji se daju opozvati.
nezaustavljivo se kondenziraš.
ne možeš spavati,
ali barem nikamo ne žuriš.
živiš u glagolskom vremenu
kojim se izražava stanje prije stanja, a poslije posljedice.
kada se svi istovremeno predomisle,
to se izgovara katapult, a piše se
metamorfoza namjere.
prestani mahati genitivom – uostalom
svi hodamo obješeni o isto pitanje
gdje su mi papuče
ili
kako voljeti i čime
znaš, ja ti to ovako zamišljam:
u praskozorje
izađem bosa na balkon,
a kad tamo - revolucija:
dok smo spavali, svijet se sam orosio.
a remove / odmak

you’re a gap in my secondary literature
an inequitable equation for the new century
an irreversible touch

if there’s a system that can encompass you:
let it be lenient and imprecise
if there’s a weapon that can protect you:
let it be cold and in someone else’s hand
if there’s a love that won’t cripple you:
let it be bestowed on you every day

this is a new forest
and in it we’re lost anew
Translated by Mirza Purić
ti si izostavljena stavka u mojoj sekundarnoj literaturi
neujednačena jednadžba za novo stoljeće
nepovratnost dodira

ako postoji sustav koji te može obuhvatiti:
neka bude blag i neprecizan
ako postoji oružje koje te može zaštiti:
neka bude hladno i u tuđoj ruci
ako postoji ljubav koja te neće osakatiti:
neka ti je dodjeljuju svaki dan

ovo je nova šuma
i u njoj smo ponovo izgubljeni
trade in sad / tužna trgovina

numismatic collections of memory sell best
great myths of small lives
bourgeois notes on times and people
cognitive distortions from the centre
and the centre is always stern
its claim on the luxury box
sacrosanct.
we condemn the clergy, for clericalism
nationalists, for nationalism
violators, for violence
we want applause for our deduction, a gallantry cross
wide, all-encompassing blind spots become
our brands –
all rights reserved
our own above all
to you we magnanimously gift the ones we don’t fancy
we’re anti-capitalists, but our capital keeps increasing
we’re feminists, but the blueprint is male
we’re anarchists, embedded in institutions
we’re here to teach you:
our justice is selective
our equality pharisaic
our intentions noble
stay safe and naive
your stupidity is fertile soil for our joint success
Translated by Mirza Purić
najbolje se prodaje numizmatika sjećanja
veliki mitovi o malim životima
buržujski zapisi o vremenu i ljudima
kognitivne distorzije iz centra
a centar je uvijek strog
njegovo mjesto u loži
sveto je pravo.
osuđujemo kler, zbog klerikalizma
nacionaliste, zbog nacionalizma
nasilnike, zbog nasilja
zahtijevamo pljesak za dedukciju i medalju za hrabrost
široke i sveobuhvatne slijepe pjege
postaju naši brendovi -
sva su prava pridržana
a najviše vlastita
vama velikodušno dajemo ona koja nam nisu zanimljiva
mi smo antikapitalisti, ali naš se kapital neprestano umnaža
mi smo feministi, ali prema muškom modelu
mi smo anarhisti, ali unutar institucije
tu smo da vas podučimo:
naša je pravda selektivna
naša jednakost farizejska
naše namjere plemenite
stojte nam dobro i naivno
vaša je glupost najplodnije tlo za zajedničke uspjehe
BAD FATHER / LOŠ OTAC

bad father likes the carnival
he changes masks year-round
finds it immensely amusing
he’s phonetically gifted

a polyglot
fluently bad in all the languages of the world
he rules from the shadows within
knows exactly what you want
makes sure
you never get it

he’s seductive and charming
some say charismatic
when he dies
all the world’s dignitaries
attend his funeral
but the next day
he resurrects unseen
sips whisky
reads his own necrologies

bad father doesn’t feel a thing
it’s a point of pride
everything he cannot feel
you feel triply
bad father eats
ortolans
dips them in cognac
as he sermonises on socialism
and workers’ rights

the worse he is
the more the children love him
ape him
believing that someday
they’d entrench themselves in his place
unaware that he’s long been
entrenched in them

bad father
writes a poem about bad father
with a bone-tired daughter’s hand
in the poem
she sticks a stake in his heart
in reality
he sticks her head in the oven

bad father only wants to fuck
knows exactly
what a woman should look like
he introduces standards
of aesthetic surgery
turns them all into mannequins
with bar codes on their napes

to those who don’t want to be mannequins
he whispers that looks don’t matter
they are his brainy lovelies
he makes them work
twice as hard
shin up the mountain
on day two of their period
write a dissertation
whilst in labour
be iron ladies
single and determined
to introduce
the new old order
in his name

sons he castrates
if not directly
then through the mother
leaves them permanently latched
onto her teat
turns them into perpetual boys
little peter pans
who only want their tinker bell

bad father advocates non-violence
love and solidarity
always has
he worries about our safety
especially since 9/11
worries so much
he kills six million
people with worry
bad father always needs
a scapegoat
a projection screen
bad father
is a victim
of bad father
and when all the strategies fail
there is always
the victim card
that’s his trump
works every time

bad father tells you
that you
are bad
whispers through all your windows
assures you that there are mortal sins
for which you’ll be punished
bad father is
the supreme authority
he governs through one of the two poles
those whose poles can no longer
be hijacke
drive him insane
he hates them more than anything
ignores them systematically
abuses them
hushes them up
pretends they don’t exist

bad father is so bad
he makes the mother
look better than she is
that’s just contrast
she’s an accomplice
a passive observer
a peacekeeping mission in Srebrenica
she’s never at fault
enjoys protections under international law
doesn’t know where she was
or what she was doing
during genocide
if he is bad
she must be good
if he doesn’t cry
her tears cannot
be false

bad father gets up early
lest he misses something
he enjoys that sense of control and domination
before the world (finally) rises

bad father gives likes
to all his children
obedient ones in particular
knows what they think
and where they go
plies them with likes
so they keep coming back for more

bad father attends a protest
against bad father
invites the organisers for a cup of tea
compliments their hair styles
there are other methods
but this one without intimidation
is proven

bad father
closes the borders one day
deploys troops, unleashes dogs
welcomes you warmly the day after
helps you look for a job

bad father created the world
in his image and likeness
all things must be like him
what is not like him
he tramples down with brutality
bad father is the arbiter
of our reality

on his good days
when he isn’t so morose
it may seem to the children
he has more virtues than faults

bad father has a name
but no one calls him by it
the children refuse
to use it
saying
he is our father
such as he is

children sometimes do
the opposite of bad father
run in a different direction
till one day in the mirror
they face
that same deathless chimera

bad father likes nothing better than
when children argue and fight
the left spits on the right
the right twists the left’s wrists

bad father renounces all that is evil
and only when he’s drunk
he lets loose a cry –
the state, it is I!
Translated by Mirza Purić
loš otac voli karneval
mijenja maske kroz godinu
to ga beskrajno zabavlja
on je poliglot
s darom za fonetiku
tečno je loš na svim jezicima svijeta
vlada iz (tvoje) sjene
dobro zna što želiš
i radi na tome da to
nikada ne dobiješ

zavodljiv je i šarmantan
neki kažu karizmatičan
loš otac
kad umre
na sprovod mu dođu
svi dužnosnici svijeta
već sutra
on neopaženo uskrsne
pijucka viski
čita vlastite nekrologe

loš otac ništa ne osjeća
i ponosan je na to
za sve što on ne osjeća
ti osjećaš dvostruko

loš otac jede
ptice pjevice
umače ih u konjak
dok priča o socijalizmu
i radničkim pravima

što je gori
to ga djeca više vole
oponašaju ga
vjeruju da će jednoga dana
zasjesti na njegovo mjesto
ne vide da je on
već odavno zasjeo u njih

loš otac
napiše pjesmu o lošem ocu
rukom jedne iznurene kćeri
u pjesmi
ona mu zabije kolac u srce
u stvarnosti
on njoj zabije glavu u pećnicu

loš otac te samo želi jebati
točno zna
kako žena treba izgledati
uvodi standarde
estetske kirurgije
sve ih pretvara u lutke
s bar kodovima na vratu

onima koje ne žele biti lutke
šapuće da nije važno kako izgledaju
one su njegove pametnice
tjera ih da rade
dvostruko
da se penju na planinu
drugog dana menstruacije
da pišu doktorat
dok rađaju
da budu čelične dame
odlučne i same
da uvode stari
novi poredak
u njegovo ime

sinove kastrira
ako ne izravno
onda preko majke
ostavi ih trajno prikopčane
na njezinu sisu
pretvori ih u vječne dječake
male petre panove
koji samo žele svoju zvončicu

loš otac propagira nenasilje
ljubav i solidarnost
oduvijek
brine za našu sigurnost
pogotovo od 9/11
toliko se brine
da šest milijuna ljudi
pobije od brige
lošem ocu uvijek treba
dežurni krivac
platno za projekciju
žrtveno janje
loš otac je
žrtva
lošeg oca
i kad sve strategije propadnu
uvijek mu preostaje
karta žrtve
ona je joker zovi
uvijek dobiva

loš otac ti govori
da si ti
loš/a
šapće kroz sve tvoje prozore
uvjerava te da postoje smrtni grijesi
i da ćeš za njih biti kažnjen/a
loš otac je
vrhovni autoritet
vlada kroz jedan od dva pola
izluđuju ga oni
čije se polove više ne može zaposjesti
njih mrzi više od ičega
sustavno ih ignorira
zlostavlja
ušutkava
pravi se da ne postoje
loš otac je toliko loš
da se majka uz njega
čini boljom nego što jest
to je samo kontrast
ona je suučesnik
pasivni promatrač
mirovna misija u Srebrenici
nikad ništa nije kriva
štiti je međunarodno pravo
ne zna gdje je bila
ni što je radila
za vrijeme genocida
ako je on loš
ona mora biti dobra
ako on ne plače
njezine suze ne mogu
biti lažne

loš otac ustaje rano
da mu ništa ne promakne
uživa u osjećaju kontrole i nadmoći
prije nego li svijet ustane

loš otac lajka
svu svoju djecu
pogotovo poslušnu
zna što misle
i kud se kreću
stalno ih lajka
da mu se vraćaju po još

loš otac dođe na prosvjed
protiv lošeg oca
pozove organizatorice na čaj
pohvali im frizuru
ima i drugih metoda
ali ova bez zastrašivanja
dokazano najbolja

loš otac
jedan dan zatvara granice
postavlja vojsku, pušta pse
drugi te dan velikodušno prima
traži ti posao

loš otac je stvorio svijet
na svoju sliku
sve mora biti nalik njemu
što nije njemu nalik
to uništava i zatire
loš otac je arbitar
naše stvarnosti

loš otac
ima i dobrih dana
djeci se tada priviđa
da možda ipak
ima više vrlina nego mana

loš otac ima ime i prezime
ali tako ga nitko ne zove
djeca odbijaju
imenovati
kažu
kakav je, takav je
naš je

ponekad djeca
rade sve suprotno od lošega oca
bježe u drugom smjeru
sve dok jedan dan ne susretnu
u ogledalu
tu istu besmrtnu himeru

loš otac najviše voli kad se djeca
svađaju i tuku
ljevica pljune na desnicu
desnica ljevici izvrne ruku

loš otac se ograđuje od svakog zla
samo kad se napije
mu se omakne:
država, to sam ja!

Katja Grcić

- Croatia -

Poetry

north node / sjeverni čvor

only verse is free / samo je stih slobodan

oxymoron / oksimoron

chrysanthemum / krizantema

Ofelia fell off her bike / Ofelija je pala s bicikla

to let things go to hell / puštati stvari da idu k ͜vragu

sister: / sestra:

centring / centriranje

a remove / odmak

trade in sad / tužna trgovina

BAD FATHER / LOŠ OTAC