Ahlberg, Allan | Ahvenjärvi, Juhani | Angelou, Maya | Bakhtiar, Shireen | Beatty, Paul | Boland, Eavan | Brooks, Gwendolyn | Brown, Sterling | Bryant, Dana | Chapman, Tracy | Clifton Read, Lucile | Coleman, Anita Scott | Coleman, Wanda | Cullun, Countee | Dashiell, J.M. | Dove, Rita | Dylan, Bob | Evans, Mari | Gaines, Reg E. | Giovanni, Nikki | Goldbarth, Albert | Harper, Michael | Hayden, Chris | Hayden, Robert | Jordan, June | Lorde, Audre | Madhubuti, Haki R. | Mc Kenty, Bob | Moore, Richard | Reed, Ishmael | Salt'n'Pepa | Sayar, Keyvan | Scott-Heron, Gill | Shakur, Tupac | Sinervo, Helena | Stevens, Cat | Teasdale, Sarah | The Sugarhill Gang | Walcott, Derek | Walker, Alice | Walker, Margaret | Williams, Saul | Wyclef Jean | Young, Al
Sinervo, Helena
The journey from teeth to throat is short.
I have a need to get inside, to sit
surrounded by bric-à-brac and lamps
and to ask: how was I left out again?
It is that unbearable dripping faucet.
Bones must bend or they break.
You laugh, flip pages as if firing,
I am fascinated by the sound of shots,
you sit, the light in your lap, on the same sofa
life is so full,
there is no space to sleep.
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Upon the treadled Singer
was grafted a five kilo gap.
The kitchen swarmed with rotting and growth,
shadows, blindings, whisperings.
The laugh and cry spiralled into spring
which tightened and split into thin fibers.
I'm still searching for them
from cracks of the floor and moldings.
Do not say childhood has no meaning,
as all meaning
is in the pleasure and pain of sucking.