you said it right, a dog can look

like any second it’s about to speak, but everyone knows

it won’t

it took you several hours and a bit of alcohol to guess what I’m like

why I am so prejudiced when it comes to animals

and why I’d never have a pet

why I’d never take off my nylons

in some staircase

only to do you good

so that you can type in peace for the next few days

and chase people around

with what it is you chase them

for your apartment utilities and those few cds

I’m no longer capable of miracles (silence

metastases into knees resting in my arms) you’ll never

find me on a poster

with my eyes pierced with needles

I swallowed all cold weapons, there they are in my throat

dreaming of bears (well, do you

punk?)

just as you consent to my sorrow of which everyone else

thinks it’s contagious, just as you patiently let

the foam recede and the blinds

bury the headlights

you can’t extinguish my untouched beautiful veins, their

unhuman yearning

for a hero, a dirty syringe

 

Translated by Tomislav Kuzmanović

dobro si rekao, pas može izgledati

kao da će svakog trena progovoriti, ali svi znaju

da neće

trebalo ti je nekoliko sati i nešto alkohola da me pročitaš

zašto sam tako zadrta kad je u pitanju životinjsko

i nikad ne bih imala kućnog ljubimca

zašto se neću skinuti u najlonke

na nekom stepeništu

samo da ti učinim dobro

da možeš sljedećih par dana u miru tipkati

i ganjati ljude

već onim čime ih ganjaš

za stan režije i par cd-ova

nisam više sposobna ni za kakvo čudo (tišina

metastazira u rukama obgrljena koljena) nećeš me

naći na plakatu

očiju probodenih špenadlama

progutala sam

sve hladno oružje, eno ga u grlu

sanja medvjede (well, do you

punk?)

to kako pristaješ na moju tugu za koju svi drugi

misle da je zarazna, kako strpljivo puštaš

pjenu da se spusti i rolete

da sahrane farove

ne može ugasiti moje netaknute lijepe vene, njihovu

nečovječnu žudnju

za herojem, nekom prljavom špricom