THE OTHER USER OF THIS BODY

by Runa Svetlikova


THE OTHER USER OF THIS BODY

We are a charged body in a city square. We are not aware

if this body leads or follows we are not aware who stayed behind

we forget the face of the one who sunk into this body

we forget the cracked body under our body, head

 

tilted towards the wrong sky. The face is of no

importance as it’s unrecognisable. Only a mother

manages to bring home the logo on the sleeve, the jeans,

the worn down shoes: this emblem was my child.

 

The body keeps rolling, information is laboriously transferred

words are dropped from an old context, no-one knows who spoke

who heard, who carries a throbbing seed in their fist

the body rolls in on itself topples across itself. Where there’s friction

 

wounds arise, acid leaks and blood. We are a body

in a city square, an autoimmune disease with slogans, banners

and tear gas against ourselves.

Translated by Willem Groenewegen