A demo poem

I’ve learned,

A kind of communication,

different from the one my masters have taught me,

also different from the one my home has taught me.


I’ve been taught that,

what I’m learning,

is how to read between the lines (of emotion);


how to be deeply aware of else’s interiority,

such as symbols/references/hooks/tricks;


In a way,

just like messages/glitches/inabilities.


In Europe however, 

I’m being taught to unlearn most of what I’ve been taught.



I’m learning to unlearn exactly that.


I don’t really question,

If undoing is what I should do,,


In fact, 

What I question,

most of the time,

is if I’m eligible to do so.

Aka: to unlearn personal learning. 


My someone still expects me to read between his lines;

that’s why we fight. 


I tell him to tell me:

What’s wrong?

What’s bothering you?

What itches?


He doesn’t want to be harsh, 

by telling me that’s exactly what hurts him:

My inability to see him hurt.

At the same time, he doesn’t want to hurt me either. 


We’re stuck between the two domains, 

My flatness,

His depth,

And vice-versa. 


We travel on two different planes; 

Simultaneously reminding each other that,

making the grid fluid,

won’t work. 


It’s probably the only time when I fight for a grid,

to work. 


(There are so many things wrong about this poem, technically. The thumbnail image is taken from the movie called Love Exposure– highly recommend)


Maisa Imamovic