150: In a Lifetime

I bought the house, walls painted blue

and rooms half furnished

with empty bed frames and hollow shelves

and nails in the walls,

but no mattresses, no books, no paintings.

These have been left for me to adjust

as I make this my home.

Stepping across the doorstep, the keys bite

into my palm. This is a lifetime decision.

Dust settles as the slanting morning light

shines gold on pale curtains. The lamp shade on the windowsill

is bent and discoloured,

worn by exposure

to direct sunlight. Picking it up, I take the measurements

to make a new one, so that the nights

don't grow

too deep.

The fridge is empty, except for a bottle

of lukewarm water, so I turn it on

and fill it with all my favourite foods

from the local corner shop and the supermarket

and that tiny Czech place in that part of town where the "right" sort of people

never go — the place

where graffitis of stars

and planets and never-ending trees mingle

with dead men's names and red scribbles that drip

onto the pavement so the "right" sort of people turn their faces

and look the other way.

I learned a few of the shopkeepers' words,

enough to say

dobrý den and děkuji and naschledanou,

enough

to bring a smile to their faces

and a nod of appreciation as I bought

a week's worth of Tatranky and asked

for the recipe for ovocné knedlíky

and how to fold wallets

out of A4 sheets of paper.

In one of these wallets

I keep the photos of my family. I place it on the windowsill,

and it glimmers white in the golden sunshine.

Before I take my things inside, I set about

to strip the walls

of that blue colour

the previous owners thought so charming

for a little lady. I strip them bare

and expose the woodwork, tarnished

by toxins and chemicals,

but not beyond repair.

I take the time, until one day I look

and see the knots

of branches and trembling lines

of year after year, broken and bent,

cut into shape,

but bold enough to shine

with the wallet

and new lamp shade.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Note: The italicised words in the text come from the Czech language and may be translated as follows:

Dobrý den - Good day

Děkuji - Thank you

Naschledanou - Good bye

Ovocné knedlíky - Fruit dumplings

Tatranky is the brand of a common Czech wafer with chocolate filling, available in most Czech shops, ranging from corner shops to supermarkets.

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Publisher's note: Please note that all poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been seen by our editors, and that the editors have suggested revisions where they see fit, but we believe that it is ultimately the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions and take no responsibility for which suggestions they accept or reject.