Translated from the Swedish by Johannes Goransson.
This is part of our special feature, New Nordic Voices.
…………………..Still there is red behind the lobe
………..she sticks in a finger
…………………..The small one
…………………..it seems to laugh
Note a figure of hard
..against its innards
Honey-eye!
…………………..Still blinks
……………………..fur glossy but warm
She hones, pales
…her paw sharp
A rhythm wells up
with dry sounds
…and ivory
…………The porous jaw
…and new sounds
…Quiet little tongue
remember the good food
…………………………………………………………………The clock keeps quiet
……………………………………………………….the belly cramps
…………………………………………………………………the slack shadow
…………………………………………………………………………..blind to my lament
…………………..Savagely I ride toward the middle
……………………..push out the innards there
…………………..A tight string cracks its fragile fuzz-ear
…………………………….a sense-violent female
…………………..and fat-garb
…………………………….Breaths getting sloppier
…………………….Wet-nose!
……….She tears at the drum
………….the torn entity
……………with smudge
…………………Wants to tease, be torn
…………………lay like a wreath and tighten
……….Laps in what is possible
….fat paste, urine drops, linty stains
Deep holedrilled into throat, smoothglossy
made of ebony, tart
……….but drained in eternity
…………The little drink!
Come, paté
…………………………………………………………………She covers herself in down!
……………………………………………………….defiled and stained
…………………………………………………………………Roaring silk flower
…………………………………………………………………………..jealous and yellow
…………………………………………………………………She’s hand cupped around my neck
………………………………………………………///can crack and love
…………………………………………………………..like food
…………………………………………………………………Now the eye-slit is narrower, clothed
…………Landed flat
with palms and scent
…………………..Let the innards flow
…………………………………………………………………………..That mouth eats from everything
…………………………………………………………………and rumps down without permission
Published on April 16, 2018.
