Poem
Hester Knibbe
HAVING A PLACE
1One day the image you have of yourself
no longer corresponds to what you see in the mirror.
In it stands someone you recognize
as the person you are, but looking as if a jet
sleep came over it and a winter in which
it was white and silent and afterward
came rain, a storm hung
to dry under the heavens. That
shrivels in your mirrored face. In your head
lives an image from last summer, but now you
face another season, you have to line your eyes
again, do something with your lips, revise yourself.
2
One day the one you fell in love with has disappeared.
You live in the same house and you care about each other,
sure, but another kind of tenderness
is needed to break through to each other and
sometimes a reticence sits down to dinner
that is difficult to overrule.
Not that the bodies don’t speak to each other,
they still stroke and touch every Eden, explore
every heaven, but there are also small
torn stitches in the seam of love, invisible
in mirrors, because it had to drag itself
across the earth, catching on twigs and stones.
From: Hungerpots
Publisher: Eyewear Publishing, London, 2015
Publisher: Eyewear Publishing, London, 2015
HET HEBBEN VAN PLAATS
HET HEBBEN VAN PLAATS
1Op een dag klopt het beeld dat je hebt van
jezelf niet meer met die je ziet in de spiegel.
Daarin staat iemand die je herkent
als die je bent, maar er lijkt een gitten
slaap overheen gegaan en een winter waarin
het wit werd en stil en daarna
kwam regen, hing er een onweer
te drogen onder de hemel. Dat
krimpt in je spiegelgezicht. In je hoofd woont
het beeld van je zomer ervoor, maar nu ga je
een ander seizoen tegemoet, moet je opnieuw
je ogen tekenen, iets met je lippen doen, je herzien.
2
Op een dag is op wie je verliefd werd verdwenen.
Je woont in hetzelfde huis en je hebt elkaar
lief, zeker, maar er is een andere
tederheid nodig om bij mekaar in te breken en
soms eet een zwijgzaamheid mee aan tafel
die zich moeilijk laat ompraten.
Niet dat de lijven niet samenspreken
die strelen en tasten ieder Eden, alle
hemelen af, maar er zitten toch ook, onzichtbaar
voor spiegels, kleine tornen in de zoom
van de liefde omdat die zo over de aarde moest
slepen, bleef haken achter takken en stenen.
From: Het hebben van schaduw
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Publisher: De Arbeiderspers, Amsterdam
Poems
Poems of Hester Knibbe
Close
HAVING A PLACE
1One day the image you have of yourself
no longer corresponds to what you see in the mirror.
In it stands someone you recognize
as the person you are, but looking as if a jet
sleep came over it and a winter in which
it was white and silent and afterward
came rain, a storm hung
to dry under the heavens. That
shrivels in your mirrored face. In your head
lives an image from last summer, but now you
face another season, you have to line your eyes
again, do something with your lips, revise yourself.
2
One day the one you fell in love with has disappeared.
You live in the same house and you care about each other,
sure, but another kind of tenderness
is needed to break through to each other and
sometimes a reticence sits down to dinner
that is difficult to overrule.
Not that the bodies don’t speak to each other,
they still stroke and touch every Eden, explore
every heaven, but there are also small
torn stitches in the seam of love, invisible
in mirrors, because it had to drag itself
across the earth, catching on twigs and stones.
From: Hungerpots
Publisher: 2015, Eyewear Publishing, London
Publisher: 2015, Eyewear Publishing, London
HAVING A PLACE
1One day the image you have of yourself
no longer corresponds to what you see in the mirror.
In it stands someone you recognize
as the person you are, but looking as if a jet
sleep came over it and a winter in which
it was white and silent and afterward
came rain, a storm hung
to dry under the heavens. That
shrivels in your mirrored face. In your head
lives an image from last summer, but now you
face another season, you have to line your eyes
again, do something with your lips, revise yourself.
2
One day the one you fell in love with has disappeared.
You live in the same house and you care about each other,
sure, but another kind of tenderness
is needed to break through to each other and
sometimes a reticence sits down to dinner
that is difficult to overrule.
Not that the bodies don’t speak to each other,
they still stroke and touch every Eden, explore
every heaven, but there are also small
torn stitches in the seam of love, invisible
in mirrors, because it had to drag itself
across the earth, catching on twigs and stones.
From: Hungerpots
Publisher: 2015, Eyewear Publishing, London
Publisher: 2015, Eyewear Publishing, London
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