I don’t play with Bomba
You have been one of the others at the garage next to the garden
Your mother was ill coughing the whole day
Your father was missing – went missing – nobody seemed to miss him
His absence turned out to be non-hereditary
You have been misgendered for couple of months
My brother called you Bobos, the small booby
My brother made the deal, so I met you
Take Bobos, it’s a good one!
His favorite pastime is to deal for money, drugs, and escorts
I am so grateful to him for this deal
Loving a stray creature came out of the blue –
We sat next to each other on the concrete ramp
I didn’t bother you a lot, you didn’t bother me either
We stayed just there for an hour, touching each other
You didn’t enjoy the pink spaceship-like backpack
You looked panicked through the porthole while I was driving a friend’s car
One traffic light after the other towards down-town
I kidnapped you from the western suburbs of Attica
You are the ticking bomb on my desktop, on my bed, on my couch, on the coffee machine
You jump on my boobs early in the morning
You pressed the power button during the public talk
You plopped on the flocata
You had been screaming of lust in early March
No one listened – I was yelping too after another separation
We are flat mates, lovers, buddies, fairy bitches, bimorphs almost a year now
We have been valiant through the long, dong, bong quarantine
Bombita mou, Bobaki, Bobi mou, Bomba mia!
Reading loud poetry to you is my fetish!
On Sundays you learn German watching Tatort, not weekly
On the evenings you are hyper – I am mostly in high-spirits during the day
You can’t afford my workload, so be it!
You drink my water – You wear my earrings
You nibble the liliums in the vase
In your vase standing pose you study my eyes
Majestic yellow, flamboyant red, ambrosial scenes of non-violence
You liked The Assassin by Hou Hsiao-Hsien
You lick my fingers on your street-tiger-skin
You watch kinky people on site with popcorn in the bedroom
We are boxing with our hand-gloves
Nails, Sluts, Buttocks, Fairy Lights, Teeth, Brats, Tales and Feet
I don’t play games with you
You strewed blue glitter on your back – a fabulous revenge!
You visit female places when I am not in town
You escaped to meet a crazy woman in pyjamas
You are jealous of my girlfriends on jitsi
My niece scared your hair to death in our flat
My niece begs you to love her on first sight
She wishes to set you free – she doesn’t favour living indoors either
You watch me through the transparent bath’s curtain
You cushion all cruel affects
disapproval, taunt, scissors, envy, toxic narcissism, butchers in costumes
you don’t like bureaucracy, just the bureau pencils
you don’t fancy the great masters of art either
You talk to birds in alien words – early morning tittle-tattle
You are digging through the walls – I lock you out while teaching
You mock me behind the door – late noon and hungry
You attack the paper bats hanging slanted
You mumble the sequined pillow – Bowie is starring at your cheek!
You give a leg up for spicy actions – I give my velvet hands to collectives
You give me your belly to lie on
You broke two full-length mirrors in three months
Writing non-writing, performing non-performing, dropping non-dropping out
No one is blaming you for my fortune
Our hair colours do match – our limbs taste salty
We fly together on a tiny carpet without handlebars – cruel optimism needs night air
The Tube, Heartlands, Low Key, Field Recordings, Labyrinth
We sound familiar but we tone aloof
<yk ̈^’üö<<mjjj co-writing!
Expansion of powers in the crap – the trap – the wrap.
Sofia Bempeza is writing, teaching, performing, curating, and working on dissent, polyphonic aesthetics, and situated productions often in collective forms within and beyond institutional frameworks. Her* texts are published in German, English and Greek while living/working in Berlin, Zürich, Vienna, Lüneburg, and Athens. She is a member of the She-Dandy poetry gang in Athens.