Tuesday, 29 September 2009


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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