The Silent Baby Word
I have been there in the body,
it’s the baddest.
that desire is a fire thing when you get your own way
but like a cavewoman knows
when you walk to Razzmatazz
in the so much of Europe here in Europe clubs
with blurry eyes the pig’s getting sicker
the legs much longer
de uitsmijter voelt lekker
more pig-tail wigs and poetry
and the voice lullabying over you and you –
you always unfold into a broken fireplace.
How is this not crystals on the body,
how is this not
victimhood so black and bright
I am so so sad don’t you believe me?
Dads always move into shitty flats
and mothers always get suicidal
and you only get to see one again.
It is always about me
de stille kindje woord inside holds onto the tiny.
Slips it into my stomach to finish off
the sucked bread
she knows I’m always hungry.
She knows I’m interested in holding onto dead things.
Klara Feenstra is a 21 year old poet, completing her bachelors in American Literature and Creative Writing. Her work is primarily invested with phenomenological concerns, particularly how time and memory is recalled, archived, and how these urgencies often manifest themselves in language about the body, the body as marked in space signifying past and present, a site where voice can dwell in uncertainty.