Monika Kalinauskaitė

Heaven houses

All that loved, ever

All cats and passions and boys

All names for bread and some knowledge

And a nevermind at the end.

If you must have a heaven you have to build houses

If you have a house you might become president

Or a sad rat in the gut –

Heaven does not house logic

That’s why there’s a heaven for those who put us through hell

Like a whole field of grass and being too drunk

And a fatal crash in one year like i did

While he pursued heaven,

Like a suitcase of stuff and feverish running

Leaving anger accross the street hungry

Leaving a house of hell for good

But with no promise of heaven,

Like paralysed afternoons waiting for rain

Unable to invest in house, life or heaven

And dancing through teeth just cause it’s free

But then paying double and hellish.

I tell my meat: i am not a bad person

And then the street says: but well, here we are

Is there any difference to what or who heaven houses

When morning still comes like a wave

And you can laugh at the bath and be silly

Eat soup in a group and talk nonsense

And be embarrassed to confess that you listen to disco.

Heaven houses me when i’m broken

In my high green facing the streets

Smoking at cars and schools and all hell passing

At salt in the sun drying on skin

At cats that i miss and all passions –

It’s not really a house

But heaven knows

It is built.