Marta Owczarek - Medicine

it’s 50 drops of this, one measure of that,
in hot water, in the evening;
nine of these tablets and two of those,
they also work together really well in terms of colours.

there’s also these drops, 10 of each in the morning, before you eat,
and some little capsules every few hours,
in between meals.

oh and this big one, one a day, any time.
i think this is all i take.

one is so i walk,
the other so i talk,
this here wakes me up,
that falls me asleep.
a few are for digestion,
other ones for charm,
one slows down the time,
these are for confidence,
and those are for calm.

There’s ones you take after a sad movie,
Or empty days with too much rest.

I only wish they’d invent one already
That would stop me from crying on buses.

Then once or twice a week I’d take another,
Over the national unit limits,
To feel a part of a room of strangers,
To converse and not remember.

I’d also inhale every few hours, outside between lectures,
That’s for killing time, and space
Inside.

I cut my hair a bit every so often,
Try to leave the neighbourhood sometimes,
Never take the stairs
And bite the inside of my cheeks.

I’d drink people like medicine, too,
But there’s no side effects
Or overdose information.

But what really is abnormal
Is the birds singing
At night.
They’re singing
Outside my window
At 2, 3, 4 or earlier am
Like it was morning already
And spring.
They’re singing
It’s dark and i’m trying not to go to sleep
Because i’m scared
And they’re singing.
What are they?
Not the pigeons that hide
Below our kitchen in the ventilation system.
The earth may well be at a different angle nowadays
So it’s warmer
Apparently mornings are brighter
But what is abnormal
Is the birds singing
When i’m trying not to go to sleep
At night
In January.