Sunday, 4 December 2011

Kim Göransson


I dreamed that my special vowels
had been restored. That you woke me up
in the middle of my great monologue
and told me I could live on.

“It's OK, you can live on.”

One by one I hammered the nails.
One by one I hammered into the wall
hoping you would hear me and
change your mind. And wrote to you
in that language that sings
using all the voices I could think of
and you listened and understood
every word as if for the first time.

My exile is nothing special, I said, it's ordinary.
When I say I miss places I really mean I miss you.
You are all the places I will ever miss.

Beneath the eyelids.
One by one we return to the labor room.
One by one forgetting, names, addresses, romances.

There are so many things I don't know about you
and there is never enough time
to get our stories straight.

Learning a new language, you said,
is harder than sleepwalking.
You're in the kitchen frying onions,
crying won't change anything.

Never wake someone who is learning
a new language, you said.
They might get stuck that way.

My great monologue is in me I know it on days
like this when remembering is all, staring
out an empty window.

Barely touching, barely there.

Wear your hair down tonight baby and call it
an experiment in feeling. Frozen
lakes a thousand miles away slowly
thawing become my insides.

You can't say you fully understand a lake
until you've walked over it thinking, I'm walking
over you I'm walking over you until
you reach the other side.

The other side of you is where I will be.
The other side of you is where we will settle down
and start a family.

roadkill II

since we last spoke
the buzzards have been
and gone
and done their thing
the grass grown
thick with it
but still no
sign of
colors changing
in the other room
mother and daughter
sleeping as one
carry away
the afternoon

Kim Göransson was born in Umeå, Sweden, but lives in Virginia, USA. He writes mostly poetry and edits the small e-zine kitchen.


gerry boyd said...

brilliant voice Kim.

Akeith Walters said...

"in the other room
mother and daughter
sleeping as one
carry away
the afternoon"

Great image. Good writing.