Poem
Ruth Lasters
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Because apples stack so nicely I’d like tostack some under your skin. Your legs, skull, chest
full of apples, the yellow kind covered in spots and full
of lumps. Just one red, shiny
perfect one that shifts as it moves through your
body. And then trying to tell where, in which of your
limbs exactly it is hidden, and every time I guess right
to take it out, take
a bite from it, trifling, true, but multiplying by infinity makes it
undeniably desecrated.
© Translation: 2009, Paul Vincent, in collaboration with the author
Hap
Hap
Omdat appels zo mooi stapelen wou ik erstapelen onder je huid. Je benen, schedel, borst
vol appels, van die gele die vol vlekken en vol
builen. Slechts één rode, glanzende
volmaakte die zich tijdens het bewegen door je lijf
verplaatst. En dan te kunnen raden waar, in welke van je
ledematen hij precies verborgen zit, om telkens als ik
het juist gok hem eruit te halen, er
een hap uit nemen, nietig weliswaar maar maal oneindig maakt
onloochenbaar geschonden.
© 2007, Ruth Lasters
From: Vouwplannen
Publisher: Meulenhoff/Manteau, Antwerp
From: Vouwplannen
Publisher: Meulenhoff/Manteau, Antwerp
Poems
Poems of Ruth Lasters
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Because apples stack so nicely I’d like tostack some under your skin. Your legs, skull, chest
full of apples, the yellow kind covered in spots and full
of lumps. Just one red, shiny
perfect one that shifts as it moves through your
body. And then trying to tell where, in which of your
limbs exactly it is hidden, and every time I guess right
to take it out, take
a bite from it, trifling, true, but multiplying by infinity makes it
undeniably desecrated.
© 2009, Paul Vincent, in collaboration with the author
From: Vouwplannen
From: Vouwplannen
Bite
Because apples stack so nicely I’d like tostack some under your skin. Your legs, skull, chest
full of apples, the yellow kind covered in spots and full
of lumps. Just one red, shiny
perfect one that shifts as it moves through your
body. And then trying to tell where, in which of your
limbs exactly it is hidden, and every time I guess right
to take it out, take
a bite from it, trifling, true, but multiplying by infinity makes it
undeniably desecrated.
© 2009, Paul Vincent, in collaboration with the author
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