Agarina

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My Mother Never D...
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  (page 176 of 163)
Sep 05, 2010 08:27AM

 
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Janet Fitch
“I watched her for a long time, memorizing her shoulders, her long-legged gait. This was how girls left. They packed up their suitcases and walked away in high heels. They pretended they weren't crying, that it wasn't the worst day of their lives. That they didn't want their mothers to come running after them, begging their forgiveness, that they wouldn't have gone down on their knees and thanked god if they could stay. ”
Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“Kylmä kallio, jota vasten paljaat jalkapohjamme painautuvat.
Yö saa hiuksesi näyttämään mustilta, kuu värjää ihosi valkoiseksi.
Meri on iso myrsky, jossa vain vanhat saavat leikkiä.
Sinä valutat minut veteen ja kiedot luiset käsivartesi ympärilleni.
Puolet minusta peittyy jo syvyyteen, mutta sinä pidät yhä kovaa kiinni.
Painat siniset huulet korvalleni ja puhut.
Mitä sinä sanot? Minä uppoan tähän leikkiin.
Suola valuu silmistäni ja tiedän että kuulet ääneni.
Sinä olet kaunis. Ota vastaan päivän valo.”
Juuli Niemi

Richard Siken
“All night I streched my arms across
him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing
with all my skin and bone ''Please keep him safe.
Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be
like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed
to pieces.'' Makes a cathedral, him pressing against
me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe
his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.”
Richard Siken, Crush

Ray Loriga
“Se huomasi, että jokin sen sisällä kului - se ihan oikeasti huomasi sen - niin kuin taskulampun paristo. Sille puhuttiin lentokentistä ja pesukoneista, mutta se pystyi ajattelemaan vain hirmumyrskyjä.”
Ray Loriga

Richard Siken
“Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake
                                                                                and dress them in warm clothes again.
          How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running
until they forget that they are horses.
                    It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,
          it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,
                              how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days
were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple
                                                                                                                        to slice into pieces.
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means
          we're inconsolable.
                                                            Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
                                                                                          Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”
Richard Siken, Crush

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