Gedicht
Polly Clark
BEHEADED
BEHEADED
BEHEADED
I hear perfectly: the thudonto linen, the strange gasp
like the cry of a premature baby,
just once and then silence.
And I see perfectly:
how my lashes scratch the light,
a hair glittering in shadow,
the winded hollow
where my lips rest.
I still have all my words.
I move my mouth,
like someone begging for water.
Fingers grab my hair
and I soar high above my sad
old body, slumped and tiny.
Tears of pity for it fill my eyes.
They are tending it,
the blank women in blue.
They are washing it,
as if they loved it.
Look, the people are cheering me,
look, they are glad to see me,
now that I’ve been removed
without a single word of protest.
© 2009, Polly Clark
From: Farewell My Lovely
Publisher: Bloodaxe, Tarset
Published with kind permission of the author and Bloodaxe.
From: Farewell My Lovely
Publisher: Bloodaxe, Tarset
Gedichten
Gedichten van Polly Clark
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BEHEADED
I hear perfectly: the thudonto linen, the strange gasp
like the cry of a premature baby,
just once and then silence.
And I see perfectly:
how my lashes scratch the light,
a hair glittering in shadow,
the winded hollow
where my lips rest.
I still have all my words.
I move my mouth,
like someone begging for water.
Fingers grab my hair
and I soar high above my sad
old body, slumped and tiny.
Tears of pity for it fill my eyes.
They are tending it,
the blank women in blue.
They are washing it,
as if they loved it.
Look, the people are cheering me,
look, they are glad to see me,
now that I’ve been removed
without a single word of protest.
From: Farewell My Lovely
Published with kind permission of the author and Bloodaxe.
BEHEADED
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