Marion Costentin




In the house with the lights out

One can’t tell by the walls
that we are all broken
it’s a furious look at lunch
a scream behind windows
it’s always the onions
and I was born there
in the house with the lights out
where nobody talks and nobody feels
perhaps it’s the man hanging
perhaps it’s the weather
or the slaughterhouse stink
when I come I turn all the lights on
and they cry when I leave. Heavy
my heart because I took on their pain
I leave it outside for the birds to eat
and I go on loving like I taught myself to
fully and without borders
fully and I touch I hold I keep close
as though my life depends on it
and I’m afraid it does
I’m afraid it does.





Marion Costentin is a French artist looking for her own voice. She lives in Berlin where she writes poems and draws all kinds of dark things.

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