rib
Enormous room. Ophelia. Ihr Herz ist eine Uhr.
Heiner MĂźllerâDie Hamletmachine
inspection on arrival
roughly 5â7â if the measuring instrument compacts the hair
springy hair (fine, curly, stiff in places, changeable, thirsty)
forehead: not prominent
eyebrows: blackâpartly joinedâ
eyelashes: not counted, sheâs got them, theyâre dark
eyes: large, dark brown, conspicuously present as is
nose: conspicuously ethnic
lips: almost no pout, corners of mouth rise fairly regularly
teeth: slightly damaged by biting hard objects, wisdom teeth removed by force
tongue: damaged, blames love
chin: depending on angle of appraisal, single
throat: intact
shoulders: hard
back: burdened
collarbones: not prominent
breasts: marked by savage human handsâno visible damageâ
birthmarks: godâs spit
belly: round with promise, not with child
buttocks: fairly curvedâless bulk than the bloodline might predictâ
haunted pelvis
hips: broad
legs: muscular from military operations
feet: flat, always touch the ground
arms: heavy
heavy-handed
incarnation
in the beginning was the hole and the hole had already been dug
unless observation leads to guilt, i was not an accomplice
sheâthe lionessâsighed and i was there
(inhumanly tender, searchlight eyes)
she wrapped me in a golden blanket that had been fashioned to look noble but was actually made from the leather of a dairy cow that had been milked dry then brutally slaughtered for my wellbeing and warmth
her breath caught she called it love it seemed a lot like fear
the gold blanket cracked and everyone could see the skin of the slaughtered cow
highly embarrassing
tears were shed
it was not clear if those present were crying because of the cow or
the violence involved or
about my fingers, which were apparently made to play pianos
nobody there could afford
we were sure that one of them was crying about the symmetry of my eyebrows
the source of the rest of the sorrow was less transparent
letâs just say there was a lot and it was briny
sheâthe lionessâwas lying on a bed
the bed had become an island in a sea of unidentifiable tears
someone was swimming away from me
the midwife protested
nobody was paying attention to my umbilical cord but somebody said
this is mainland
always stay on the mainland always keep
your eyes on the horizon always look
for signal fires
i had other peopleâs tears in my ears
i couldnât hear properly, so i always looked for fire
when i wanted to go home
i let myself be molded
thatâs how the first misunderstanding arose after three or four moldings nobody knew what my original shape had been
i could never become myself again and no one recognized me anywhere
when they found meâyears laterâthe headlines said
besmirched exotic beauty
(well yeah what is beauty)
found at the heart-black bottom of the well
the journalists forgot i had a mother
and my mother too and her mother before her
they wanted to know what happened
i was invited onto a quiz show to choose the best answer to that question
i chose âpersistent patrimonyâ
that won a balding provincial fortysomething a suitcase containing 50,000 banknotes
currency from a country that no longer exists
the host asked me to turn around
the balding provincial gent used both hands to shoot the useless banknotes at my ass
meanwhile the host sang a song about the beauty of holland in the rain
the laugh track was on
a blond woman yelled that it was just what i deserved
her fury, metropolitan and delphic
the cameraman was just in time to capture a tear
he too forgot my mother and her mother and her mother and the absent fathers
while pressing the microphone up against my lips
the bald man kept shooting banknotes at my ass
the laugh track was still on
it made for two minutes of excellent television
adam washes ashore
sunday morning on the church square
in the cityâautumn leaves on the ground
the authorities have abolished
coincidenceâi pick him up i pat him
dry i keep him for his own sake around
him i write a sentence his backpack fits into
adam stretches drowning
has done him good how clean
he is he has six masks he is
wearing one heâs saved
from the desert where he was
alone still intact and dry
(great-)grandmotherly advice
dead bodies are heavy
youâre better off not trying
to transport them on bicycles over the damp slippery christmas-lit cobbles of a medium-sized western city where people are walking through shops in search of things to...