Pantagruel

Have I given up already?

Lacan called it a linguist’s idiocy
believing that language mimed
a meaning that precedes us all

And is

not just the coming together
of silent dumb objects
The chance meeting of
Cleopatra, Cocaine, & LaCroix
et cetera
on a coffee table covered in Polaroids

A conch, a whiskey trail
and pink salt crystals,
All coming from the sea,
all under the domain of
Pantagruel

That little demon who shoves salt
in drunkards’ and sailors’ throats.

Every collection is open to a newcomer
Like a palmed spring in the desert,
like a new body in a desert
It shows how insufficient
everything is.

Ah, that little demon, Pantagruel,
he really holds us all by the throat!

Anton Ivanov grew up between Italy and Bulgaria. He is a founder of Black Sun Lit and associate editor of Wonder.