Translation: José Luis Rico
from Kirnu (“Churning”)
Gummerus, 2021
Something flees out of us,
light from other places.
*
Our species was painted on the boulder. Slender characters, surrounded by the courtyard
under the sky.
The heads turned towards each other.
The trees’ shadows pour into the apartment, as our bones blossom.
The planet churns us out. Your back stirs up,
night flows through the muscles.
……….
Winter levels. The cat stays on the carpet. You must think about the person that isn’t. You must pursue your habits, yawn into the light. Windows mist up with flowers. In the evening I eat a mango standing up. The day begins at the same spot where it ends. On the news, the Country ceases to exist. It’s a day of coming, staying, being able, asking. Ice abolishes itself. The braids hold out, the skull rolls around the pillow, soon turns away. Blind stitch, teetering zenith. The cat doesn’t see. Something begins halfway.
……….
I arrive to the world’s center,
the world feels safe,
it sparkles through every surface.
I eat cherry tomatoes,
I should tell you about them.
They burst in my teeth
faster than anything else
I arrive at the center of the burst.
……….
At the center of my head there is a silent enclosure.
at the center of my head there is silence,
there’s a pure tepidness the snow could talk to you about more convincingly if it were here
in my place,
I arrive at the center of the snow.
There’s nothing in my place,
because I’m here. You have no body either,
not yet. No other body is taking my body’s
space.
I’m there.
Milka Luhtaniemi is a poet, performance maker, and dramaturg living in Helsinki. Her first book of poems, Kirnu, was published in 2021 and recently received enthusiastic reviews. Milka majored in dramaturgy at the University of the Arts Theater College in 2020. She works across artistic fields, harnessing performance and installation, as well as printed and performed text.
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