A response to Alicja Kwade’s series ‘Being…’

For quite some time, I have been meaning to return, the artist writes -

that’s all. One single line. I have been meaning to return 

so much myself. My library books, of course - and face

the mounting fine. I have been meaning to return

to where I think I dropped a glove and bring it home,

brush off the grime. I have been meaning to return

to Paris, but not Paris, but a bright, unfolding city

where everything was fine. I have been meaning to return

good for evil, I suppose, though I’m not sure which is which

or where to draw a line. I have been meaning to return

to walk by everything I’ve lost, houses I’ve sold, past lamplit rooms

a stranger’s shadow on the blind. I have been meaning to return

eyes open. What did she mean, this woman, by her work

which breaks abruptly on a line, and offers no return

to all my questions? Books, cities, gloves - half a pair lost -

some trust in the divine – I have been meaning to return.

I went back to look again: the gallery was locked. A note:

Closed pending redesign. I have been meaning to return

Beneath her work, I’ll think I’ll write my own name down,

Truscott, H. M, and sign, I have been meaning to return.