Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Paul Bogaert

And she rubbed

And she rubbed
over her legs.
‘I can arrange and turn on voyeurs in such a way
that they no longer long to be a part of something else.’

She opened a jerrycan of Dettol.
She freshened up the water and reclined in it.

‘Really nice and fresh’, she said, ‘this ancient water is nice and fresh
again. Come and join me. With your dodgy connections
and your perceptions.’

En zij wreef

En zij wreef
over haar benen.
‘Ik kan voyeurs zo plooien en aandraaien
dat ze niet langer verlangen deel van iets anders te zijn.’

Ze opende een jerrycan Dettol.
Ze friste het water op en ze ging erin liggen.

‘Lekker fris, hoor’, zei ze, ‘dit eeuwenoude water is weer lekker fris.
Kom er maar bij. Met je valse contacten
en je gewaarwordingen.’
Close

And she rubbed

And she rubbed
over her legs.
‘I can arrange and turn on voyeurs in such a way
that they no longer long to be a part of something else.’

She opened a jerrycan of Dettol.
She freshened up the water and reclined in it.

‘Really nice and fresh’, she said, ‘this ancient water is nice and fresh
again. Come and join me. With your dodgy connections
and your perceptions.’

And she rubbed

And she rubbed
over her legs.
‘I can arrange and turn on voyeurs in such a way
that they no longer long to be a part of something else.’

She opened a jerrycan of Dettol.
She freshened up the water and reclined in it.

‘Really nice and fresh’, she said, ‘this ancient water is nice and fresh
again. Come and join me. With your dodgy connections
and your perceptions.’
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