Poem 90 # 11601
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Poem 90. Poem by Kristján Karlsson.
The ointment
The oil is sharp and the air is hissing.
In your ear, Seselja, the late messenger
a guest at your table, nothing
2
rather, his deadly ears are granted
than a bouncing, deadly bullet
when he is in the mood to hunt
3
When he sits down, a small lump appears.
in tasteful colors blue pink red yellow
quieter than any guest at dinner
4
and by no means a cut-off society
if you yourself are meek and humble
Peek-a-boo, peep-a-boo.
The ointment
The oil is sharp and the air is hissing.
In your ear, Seselja, the late messenger
a guest at your table, nothing
2
rather, his deadly ears are granted
than a bouncing, deadly bullet
when he is in the mood to hunt
3
When he sits down, a small lump appears.
in tasteful colors blue pink red yellow
quieter than any guest at dinner
4
and by no means a cut-off society
if you yourself are meek and humble
Peek-a-boo, peep-a-boo.