Poem
Ruth Lasters
WAY THROUGH
Doors too should start payingtheir way. To record strictly how often they are opened-shut each week, how
many times we charged through and back. To see if
they’re doorworthy and if not: seal them shut. Till it is said
a hundred times: ‘I could have sworn that only yesterday’ –
Then, it would be reopened, you’d see advertising signs
everywhere saying Way Through! Door! and on one side of the door
a field of fake poppies would be planted and on the other a
plastic bench on which sat a woman, a man that
– I wished in vain – only looked like
us. Us with a margin of error.
DOORGANG
DOORGANG
Ook deuren moesten maar eens gaanrenderen. Hun hoeveel open-toe per week, hoeveel
er druk door heen en terug, streng geregistreerd. Of ze
deurwaardig dus zijn en zo niet: dichtgeplakt. Tot honderd
keer gezegd is: ‘Ik had kunnen zweren dat hier gisteren nog –
Dán werd ze opengedaan weer, zag je reclameborden
overal met Doorgang! Deur! en aan de ene deurkant werd
een stoffen klaproosveld geplant en aan de andere een
plastic bank waarop een vrouw, een man van wie
ik wenste tevergeefs dat ze alleen hardnekkig op ons
leken. Wij met een foutmarge.
© 2007, Ruth Lasters
From: Vouwplannen
Publisher: Meulenhoff Manteau,
From: Vouwplannen
Publisher: Meulenhoff Manteau,
Poems
Poems of Ruth Lasters
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WAY THROUGH
Doors too should start payingtheir way. To record strictly how often they are opened-shut each week, how
many times we charged through and back. To see if
they’re doorworthy and if not: seal them shut. Till it is said
a hundred times: ‘I could have sworn that only yesterday’ –
Then, it would be reopened, you’d see advertising signs
everywhere saying Way Through! Door! and on one side of the door
a field of fake poppies would be planted and on the other a
plastic bench on which sat a woman, a man that
– I wished in vain – only looked like
us. Us with a margin of error.
From: Vouwplannen
WAY THROUGH
Doors too should start payingtheir way. To record strictly how often they are opened-shut each week, how
many times we charged through and back. To see if
they’re doorworthy and if not: seal them shut. Till it is said
a hundred times: ‘I could have sworn that only yesterday’ –
Then, it would be reopened, you’d see advertising signs
everywhere saying Way Through! Door! and on one side of the door
a field of fake poppies would be planted and on the other a
plastic bench on which sat a woman, a man that
– I wished in vain – only looked like
us. Us with a margin of error.
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