Contempt

my puppetstring are the
sweet decaying lamps I flutter round.

I am as immense

as a black kid with a spinning top.

drowned tripper fat

crawls into hollow cuffs to be sewn up

like hot cats

cracked soft caryatids in tails.

I'll force you all to your knees

your dirty muzzles will squawk

out of your faces.

and I will continue to climb

I'll spread my thin arms along the queer walls

till they bleed.

I'll reach into threadbare velvet

so that you bash yourselves like poor moths

on corners of night.

the reason I'm here is

to scratch all the white bellies

squatting down there.

your stupid silence I will just

toss up in the air.

I am as sky high

as all your staring regards laid end to end

on the ground somewhere

lies my broken smile.

Týtt til enskt: MICHAEL HOFMANN