I can see a mosaic of myself being reflected back. I exist in the mundane; in the little things that are sometimes overlooked. A cold cup of tea, untouched on the kitchen table, forgotten from the previous night. And... 

26th of January 2025 

Everywhere I look 

"Devoted, my curious fingers softly exploring your salivating mouth. At first, poking at your gums with tenderness, surprised with how fragile the pink slippery skin is, how quickly the redness bleeds, how it coats my nails with colour... "

I Will Blame It On (Autumn) & No violence, no bite, no poison – At last, war dogs discovering peace

Slightly experimental anti-government piece. 

Metaphorical Guillotine 

The domestic atmosphere of a man casually resting his hands on the kitchen table, eyes half closed and full of sleep, waiting for his coffee cup to stop spinning in the microwave. A lazy yawn escaping from his swollen mouth...

26th of November 2024

The domestic atmosphere 

A river cutting blindingly through the earth's core, never bending itself, never apologizing, never submissive; but melting obsidian into slippery curves, demanding, growing, becoming an ocean - my mother.

2 small pieces 

In my father´s absence: 
must every single conversion 
be wrapped in grief? 

midnight tequila shot 
from the salty tongue
freshly squeezed lies 

my short skirt
blowing up
in the breeze
of male audacity 

3 Senryu: November 2024

Chicken Factory 

Lucy found out that Peter, her boyfriend and my husband, was married.

She told me everything. How they met, felt the sparks, and continued to pursue the connection.

I held her hands in mine, a gesture of comfort. I gave her my number and made (...)

A Pretty Woman Came Knocking On My Door 

... her head drops against the cabinet. A stubborn tear forces a new path down her face. Opened like a mouth, only a stripe of light slithers away from the refrigerator to unveil her newest heartbreak... 

11th June 2024

Sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor 

I let you come visit, the same way I let him watch me sleep (...)

Because there isn't any difference between ghosts and unwanted men 

& I was never much of a swimmer   but for an instant 
the temptation   of jumping in    took over me    feet swinging in the air  &  drowning would be preferable
to losing you 

My last goodbye to you 

You never know when you will find a dead body in an alleyway   or    when that dead body might just be you

But don't be boring 

Two very random poems about two very different situations. Basically, the chaotic energy of being 18 years old.


McDonald's Memories - Why I Don't Eat Hamburgers  &  I Am Happy I Was Only 18 For 365 Days 

I wrote this poem years ago and it was basically wasting away on my notes, completely forgotten. Now, this super specific moment from my past, found a final home in Backwards Trajectory, where it can have a present and future existence. 

Sunday Type of Love 

One single word (salmon) triggered my brain to crawl out of my fingers this instantaneous written under 1 minute minisurrealist poem. 

Joana Figueiredo

Selected work