donderdag, januari 25, 2007

Griezelgedicht

Omdat zij er nu toch over begint.
Dit griezelgedicht heeft heel lang op de kleerkast in mijn kamer gehangen:

Anne Sexton - The Lost Lie

There is rust in my mouth,
the stain of an old kiss.
And my eyes are turning purple,
my mouth is glue
and my hands are two stones
and the heart,
is still there,
that place where love dwelt
but it is nailed into place.
Still I feel no pity for these oddities,
in fact the feeling is one of hatred.
For it is only the child in me bursting out
and I keep plotting how to kill her.

Once there was a woman,
full as a theater of moon
and love begot love
and the child, when she peeked out,
did not hate herself back then.
Funny, funny, love what you do.
But today I roam a dead house,
a frozen kitchen, a bedroom
like a gas chamber.
The bed itself is an operating table
where my dreams slice me into pieces.

Oh love,
the terror,
the fright wig,
that your dear curly head
was, was, was, was.
Creative Commons Licentie
Op dit werk is de Creative Commons Licentie van toepassing.