Nicole Sealey, Tink net yn eksekúsjes, mar yn post mortem-ereksjes

 
Tink net yn eksekúsjes,
mar yn post mortem-ereksjes

Wie de dei mar net.
De dage hat wer in loft,
syn fûgels opeaske.

Fan myn brânsteapel ôf
besjoch ik de brutsen nekken.
Ienris stie dit stee

fjildblommen ta –
neat slimmer as kniesde
fjildblommen. Djoerleave

dage, deademasker
dêr’t ik oan wend
rekke bin, toan my

ien moai ding
net swierder
as in kolibry.

 

Instead of Executions,
Think Death Erections

I wish the day hadn’t.
Dawn has claimed
another sky, its birds.

I watch from my burning
stake the broken necks.
Once, this lot

allowed wildflowers—
nothing worse than bruised
wildflowers. Darling

dawn, death mask
in which I’ve grown
accustomed, show me

one pretty thing
no heavier
than a hummingbird.

 

Ut Ordinary Beast, Ecco, New York 2017. Oernommen mei tastimming fan de auteur.

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