Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Erín Moure

Living Proof

LEVEND BEWIJS

En dus nam ik de temperatuur op van de mond.
En dus nam ik de temperatuur op van de oksel.
Na hem te wassen, hem droog te kloppen, dicht
de arm tegen het lijf te houden,
de elleboog te stoppen op de plek van het middel.

En dus nam ik de temperatuur op van de anus,
waarbij ik mijn arm mijn rug langs draaide
om erbij te kunnen.

Kerkklokken weergalmden, het was het middaguur.
Er was buiten niemand op de weg.

Overal, overal, overal:
dezelfde temperatuur.

Living Proof

And so, i took the temperature of the mouth.
And so, i took the temperature of the armpit.
Washing it first, patting it dry, closing
the arm to the body,
tucking the elbow where the waist is.

And so, i took the temperature of the anus,
bending my arm around my back
to do so.

Churchbells rang out, it was noon.
No-one was outside on the road.

Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere:
the same temperature.
Close

Living Proof

And so, i took the temperature of the mouth.
And so, i took the temperature of the armpit.
Washing it first, patting it dry, closing
the arm to the body,
tucking the elbow where the waist is.

And so, i took the temperature of the anus,
bending my arm around my back
to do so.

Churchbells rang out, it was noon.
No-one was outside on the road.

Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere:
the same temperature.

Living Proof

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