Louise Juhl

Your face is one lie. So obvious that it is severely good.

So open that I see and something triumphs.

Do you dare contradict me, Lotus Flower, dare you swell of spite?

I could call you moon piper, tightroper, retentive fish. You could spit on my calves and kiss my neck in one motion.

This is what we do, together: make something meet long after its meaning disappeared.
That’s what we are, collectively: gasping fish, carcases call.
Species, hoping to die in each other’s mouths.

(translated by Nanna Thorhauge)