Vilnius trilogy

Dedicated to Tove Ditlevsen

We are different, but sometimes our mornings are a time of hope,
And the days are a disaster. Homes are sometimes only in paper –
Unhappy mothers, each unhappy in her own way.
Can a girl be comforted by the knowledge that all this is
A classic, long since described in novels?
I often hear the phrase that the best
Poems are written in the mind. But can a girl be
Comforted by the knowledge that next to the kitchen
And children’s butts she can write in her mind late at night,
A lifetime? No, it can’t be enough, it won’t be enough.

It is okay not to want more children, it is okay to make a firm decision
Lying on your boyfriend’s doctor’s table – look: the cold glares
Chromium – what sterile, distant starlightǃ

I don’t know if we can talk about writing as
About the altar on which we sacrifice relationships, family,
Health, peace of mind? Can a girl be comforted by knowing
That she will always be the accused no matter what she would do?

The void is sweet, the void cuts like a cobra, it’s
Sweet as drugged milk and blood, mingled
In the spout of a malarial mosquito.
There’s poison coursing through your veins, little Van Gogh,
You only need one ear to hear
All over the world, and there’s no need for a line about
The grief, the moans of unborn children.
You are my consolation, my sweet excuse,
Even though I am not Sylvia, I can write as myself.