Cow dung and northern lights #69463
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Cow dung and the northern lights. Poem by Steinunn Sigurðardóttir.
Self-portraits at an exhibition
My soul was a dwarf at the dance floor yesterday,
She tapped her knee hopefully and invited the girls up.
They all shuddered and rejected the crippled soul.
She got to sit on the bar.
and danced one by two, if dancing were called for.
-
The soul in me is a girl who scribbles on walls.
A skunk with a power-training thigh and walks on tiptoe.
She is born in the back, with a lump of fat for a breast,
and travel around the locker room on a stretchy trouser.
There is a pencil stub in a clenched fist
and she waits for an opportunity when no one is looking.
A soul like this can go on a rampage and pee outside.
But at Christmas she demands a bow for a boy's head and sings
with so that it gleams in a dangling tooth. Hello to you.
Self-portraits at an exhibition
My soul was a dwarf at the dance floor yesterday,
She tapped her knee hopefully and invited the girls up.
They all shuddered and rejected the crippled soul.
She got to sit on the bar.
and danced one by two, if dancing were called for.
-
The soul in me is a girl who scribbles on walls.
A skunk with a power-training thigh and walks on tiptoe.
She is born in the back, with a lump of fat for a breast,
and travel around the locker room on a stretchy trouser.
There is a pencil stub in a clenched fist
and she waits for an opportunity when no one is looking.
A soul like this can go on a rampage and pee outside.
But at Christmas she demands a bow for a boy's head and sings
with so that it gleams in a dangling tooth. Hello to you.