Season

I approach you smoothly through the

blowhole of a beached whale its

heart that weighs a tonne emits

poisonous copper on tourist's heads

they will all turn black and go quiet.

 

this is a poem about olives.

 

actually about the season of pickled olives

June releases its glue the city is

spreading through beach umbrellas love is

a wrinkled scene of a car crash

you cannot stop looking at it.

 

if it happens, you have to be close.

 

my shape is an opaque jar brimming with

electrolytes into me you soak your fingers

and do not know how to get them out dry

tonight I started removing the sharp

roof of your house the mice fled into

something softer than a pleura.

 

I sink the floors of the house into a single spot.

 

you have never seen her but you want to touch her

not me

the spot on which tectonic plates sleep

and in which the warm uranium from Japan nests

I am becoming stiff I need time

to reach the climax I am a burn scar that

ripens slowly you must wait for me because mercury

is as of recently no longer kept in houses.

 

you measure warmth by the pace of my arrivals.

 

shade will bury us all equally

and how come you have never seen joined

two ends of olives I left a space in between

for a bite through which I approach you and

that freshness drips from the throat down the hips

to that spot you have never seen.

on it you will raise a camp as light as soup

in summer I will come inside unload my length

and the swarms of tourists I keep underneath the armpits.

I will be the wet body in front of electric fence.

 

the only thing relevant will be which side you approach me from.

Translated from Croatian by Antonia Jurić

Sezona

prilazim ti glatko kroz leđnu

rupu nasukanog kita njegovo

srce koje teži jednu tonu ispušta

otrovni bakar po glavama turista

svi će oni pocrnjeti i zašutjeti.


 

ovo je pjesma o krastavcima.


 

zapravo o sezoni kiselih krastavaca

lipanj pušta svoje ljepilo grad se

štiti bodljama suncobrana ljubav je

zgužvani prizor automobilske nesreće

ne možeš je prestati gledati.


 

ako se dogodi moraš biti blizu.


 

moj oblik mutna je tegla prepuna

elektrolita u mene umačeš prste

i ne znaš kako ih izvući suhe

noćas sam krenula skidati oštri

krov tvoje kuće miševi su se razbježali u

nešto mekše od plućne maramice.


 

potapam podove kuće u jednu točku.


 

nisi je nikada vidio ali želiš je dodirnuti

ne mene

točku na kojoj spavaju tektonske ploče

i gnijezdi se topli uran iz Japana

postajem ukočena treba mi vremena

za dosegnuti vrhunac opekotina sam koja

sporo sazrijeva moraš me čekati jer živú

od nedavno ne držimo u kućama.


 

toplinu mjeriš brzinom mojih dolazaka.


 

hladovina će nas sve podjednako sahraniti

i kako to da nikada nisi vidio spojena dva

kraja krastavca ostavila sam prostor između

za ugriz preko kojeg ti prilazim i

ta svježina cijedi se iz grla niz kukove

do one točke koju nikada nisi vidio.

na njoj ćeš podignuti tabor lagan kao juha

ljeta ja ću ući unutra istovariti svoju dužinu

i rojeve turista koje čuvam ispod pazuha.

bit ću mokro tijelo ispred električne ograde.


 

jedino bitno bit će s koje mi strane prilaziš.