Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Nils Chr. Moe-Repstad

POISONING 15

I sit in this undignified chair
I put tablets under my tongue
and read the stocks on yellowed paper

I know that the nausea will come, as physical
as the weights they lift in the room above

‘7000 calories a day
and what the fuck is the food exchange’

I do not think of Bayer, Lundbeck, GSK
but bite my tongue, the sudden pain
recalls loss, huge losses as in the wars

is it the civil wars
the taste of blood and substances
that penetrate the lingual vein
is it the nausea, that physical nausea

iron weights clang, the iron that was once
extracted from the marshes

‘watch out for the water holes in the mire’

reindeer antlers poke out of black trash bags
in April, and I understand the poacher’s story

‘during the war we sank hunting weapons in the mire
to hide and hoard them’

in archeology there are moss corpses

I have drunk water from these marshes
and know the movements of the intestines, the waves of pressure
up into the throat: higher, lower, higher, higher
like graphs for crude oil, palm oil

I count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
until the next wave, the biggest wave

seabirds regurgitate lighters, soda caps, nylon cord
trawling net, plastic forks, and Barbie doll heads
for their hatchlings

it is the dead gulls that wash up, the offspring
never fly from the nests

it is the bottom of the North Sea: coral desert, sludge plains
fish mountains rotting

it is the top of the North Sea: oil spills, rust, derivatives
steel hulls beating

it is the slow disintegration, mouth filled with water

I fold the newspaper and hold it against my lower lip

NYSE-HANGSENG-LSE-NIKKEI-FSE

iron against iron, heavier, almost like church bells
during the longest wars
the ancient and greatest wars

15e VERGIFTIGING

Ik zit in de onwaardige stoel
ik leg tabletten onder mijn tong
en lees de beurskoersen op goudpapier

ik weet dat de misselijkheid komt, dat die fysiek is
als de gewichten die ze heffen in de ruimte boven

‘7000 calorieën per dag
en wat zijn in godsnaam levensmiddelenbeurzen’

ik denk ook niet aan Bayer, Lundbeck, GSK
maar bijt op mijn tong, de plotselinge pijn
doet denken aan verlies, grote verliezen zoals in de oorlogen

zijn het de burgeroorlogen
de bloedsmaak en de werkzame stoffen
die de linguale venen penetreren
is het de misselijkheid, de fysieke misselijkheid

de ijzeren gewichten knallen, ijzer dat ooit
uit de moerassen werd gehaald

‘pas op voor de drinkplaatsen in het armenmoeras’

rendierhorens steken uit zwarte vuilniszakken
in april en ik begrijp de geschiedenis van de stroopjacht

‘tijdens de oorlog lieten we jachtwapens in de modderpoelen zinken
om ze te verbergen en te bewaren’

in de archeologie zijn het de veenlijken

ik heb water uit deze moerassen gedronken
en ken de darmbewegingen, de drukgolf
in de keel: hoger, lager, hoger, hoger
als grafieken voor ruwe olie, palmolie

ik tel 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
de volgende golf, de grootste golf

de zeevogels braken aanstekers, flessendoppen, nylondraad
visnet, plastic bestek en barbiepophoofden op
voor de net uitgekomen kuikens

het zijn de dode meeuwen die aanspoelen, de jongen
verlaten de nesten nooit

het is de bodem van de Noordzee: koraalwoestijn, slibvlaktes
visbergen die rotten

het is de top van de Noordzee: afgewerkte olie, roest, derivaten
stalen rompen die beuken

het is de langzame afbraak, de mondholte gevuld met water

ik vouw de krant en houd hem tegen mijn onderlip

NYSE-HANGSENG-LSE-NIKKEI-FSE

ijzer op ijzer, zwaarder, bijna als de kerkklokken
in de langste oorlogen
de vroegere, belangrijkste oorlogen

15. FORGIFTNING

Jeg sitter i den uverdige stolen
jeg legger tabletter under tungen
og leser aksjekurser på gyllent papir

jeg vet at kvalmen kommer, at den er fysisk
som vektene de løfter i rommet over

«7000 kalorier i døgnet
og hva faen er matvarebørsene»

jeg tenker heller ikke Bayer, Lundbeck, GSK
men biter meg i tungen, den plutselige smerten
minner om tap, store tap som i krigene

er det borgerkrigene
blodsmaken og virkestoffene
som penetrerer lingualvenen
er det kvalmen, den fysiske kvalmen

det klinker i jernvekter, jernet som en gang
ble hentet ut av myrene

«pass deg for vannhullene i fattigmyra»

reinsdyrhorn stikker ut av svarte søppelsekker
i april, og jeg forstår tyvjaktens historie

«under krigen senket vi jaktvåpen ned i sølehullene
for å skjule og bevare dem»

i arkeologien er det moselikene

jeg har drukket vann fra disse myrene
og kjenner tarmbevegelsen, trykkbølgen
opp i halsen: høyere, lavere, høyere, høyere
som grafer for råolje, palmeolje

jeg teller 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
den neste bølgen, den største bølgen

sjøfuglene gulper opp lightere, flaskekorker, nylonrep
trålgarn, plastbestikk og barbiedukkehoder
til de nyutklekkede ungene

det er de døde måkene som skylles opp, ungene
flyr aldri fra reirene

det er bunnen av Nordsjøen: korallørken, slamsletter
fiskefjell som råtner

det er toppen av Nordsjøen: spillolje, rust, derivater
stålskrog som slår

det er den sakte nedbrytningen, munnhulen fylt med vann

jeg bretter avisen og holder den mot underleppen

NYSE-HANGSENG-LSE-NIKKEI-FSE

jern mot jern, tyngre, nesten som kirkeklokkene
i de lengste krigene
de fortidige, fremste krigene
Close

POISONING 15

I sit in this undignified chair
I put tablets under my tongue
and read the stocks on yellowed paper

I know that the nausea will come, as physical
as the weights they lift in the room above

‘7000 calories a day
and what the fuck is the food exchange’

I do not think of Bayer, Lundbeck, GSK
but bite my tongue, the sudden pain
recalls loss, huge losses as in the wars

is it the civil wars
the taste of blood and substances
that penetrate the lingual vein
is it the nausea, that physical nausea

iron weights clang, the iron that was once
extracted from the marshes

‘watch out for the water holes in the mire’

reindeer antlers poke out of black trash bags
in April, and I understand the poacher’s story

‘during the war we sank hunting weapons in the mire
to hide and hoard them’

in archeology there are moss corpses

I have drunk water from these marshes
and know the movements of the intestines, the waves of pressure
up into the throat: higher, lower, higher, higher
like graphs for crude oil, palm oil

I count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
until the next wave, the biggest wave

seabirds regurgitate lighters, soda caps, nylon cord
trawling net, plastic forks, and Barbie doll heads
for their hatchlings

it is the dead gulls that wash up, the offspring
never fly from the nests

it is the bottom of the North Sea: coral desert, sludge plains
fish mountains rotting

it is the top of the North Sea: oil spills, rust, derivatives
steel hulls beating

it is the slow disintegration, mouth filled with water

I fold the newspaper and hold it against my lower lip

NYSE-HANGSENG-LSE-NIKKEI-FSE

iron against iron, heavier, almost like church bells
during the longest wars
the ancient and greatest wars

POISONING 15

I sit in this undignified chair
I put tablets under my tongue
and read the stocks on yellowed paper

I know that the nausea will come, as physical
as the weights they lift in the room above

‘7000 calories a day
and what the fuck is the food exchange’

I do not think of Bayer, Lundbeck, GSK
but bite my tongue, the sudden pain
recalls loss, huge losses as in the wars

is it the civil wars
the taste of blood and substances
that penetrate the lingual vein
is it the nausea, that physical nausea

iron weights clang, the iron that was once
extracted from the marshes

‘watch out for the water holes in the mire’

reindeer antlers poke out of black trash bags
in April, and I understand the poacher’s story

‘during the war we sank hunting weapons in the mire
to hide and hoard them’

in archeology there are moss corpses

I have drunk water from these marshes
and know the movements of the intestines, the waves of pressure
up into the throat: higher, lower, higher, higher
like graphs for crude oil, palm oil

I count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
until the next wave, the biggest wave

seabirds regurgitate lighters, soda caps, nylon cord
trawling net, plastic forks, and Barbie doll heads
for their hatchlings

it is the dead gulls that wash up, the offspring
never fly from the nests

it is the bottom of the North Sea: coral desert, sludge plains
fish mountains rotting

it is the top of the North Sea: oil spills, rust, derivatives
steel hulls beating

it is the slow disintegration, mouth filled with water

I fold the newspaper and hold it against my lower lip

NYSE-HANGSENG-LSE-NIKKEI-FSE

iron against iron, heavier, almost like church bells
during the longest wars
the ancient and greatest wars
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