I have constructed the moon into a lamp
So that it can bear its days without shrinking
Like a soap, but be a head proudly shaping
Over the clouds into the white vanity it deserves
For its force. Dragging seas and women
Behind its back in a heavy bridal veil,
Horses envy its strength. Corpses
Leave sleep in their graves to hold
their hands under that lamp again,
My lamp, my kitchen lamp.
Rebecka Mustajärvi
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