POETRY: Ene Mihkelson

(c) Jüri J Dubov

Look how the machine of living works
what desires fill it The Trinity
moulders among old junk God blows his
nose on the silver wholeheavens
If there was once love now the body is
so pierced by possibilities that shamelessly I
lie into piety

The dream is always real and we crave
the same eyes without asking about color
Verse has rhythm and meter and repetitions
have their own circular motivations
Let me be a machine God
trains the animal in me and the schizoid freedom

I am one but the perspective is
everywhere and always so different that
I disappear into intersecting shafts of light
and am the same everywhere if whoever
in whatever place cares to notice me
How much nonexistence surrounds all
of us and even that weighed by reason
What else could absence be if not
death and what else is memory
if not renamed life



The last word The last The last The only
possible I will be pushed to the stove on a cabbage
leaf like a scone The eyes of the coals
glow Soon the protective crust will taste good
I will be broken and not feel pain
I will be eaten and it is bread
I dream of marigolds and the spring from which
I drank in childhood


Free yourself from bonds
like a leaf that falls
like a number that cannot be divided
like a rhyme without rhythm
the chrysalis of your existence
releases flight


Yes of Estonia I would still
testify but how could I speak
of her if I am of the same
matter the same tongue in my mouth
the only one this tiny people
has had for centuries Probably
I have not existed and there was no land
distinct from the people
So I won’t be reciting
the popular anthem I am
only a particle in this blood union


© University of Wales, Aberystwyth 2002-2009       home  |  e-mail us  |  back to top
site by CHL