Friday, 18 November 2011

A poem by the Swedish writer
Kristina Lugn (b. 1948)

I want you to come now!

I want you to come now!
I want you to come right now!
Bring your pocket calculator with you.
And the Steinway grand piano.
Bring along elastoplast aspirins eau de cologne and sanisept
a bottle of Ramlösa a bottle of gin a bottle of whisky and
a toothbrush mug
a bottle of Ajax and a large packet of sleeping pills a pot plant and
a pizza
and a respirator.
I want you to come right now!
Just you are to come right now!
And take me by storm.
You’re to switch off the ceiling lights.
And light the candelabras.
You’re to pull the phone out of its socket.
And inflate the rubber mattresses.
You’re to dry my tears and speak sense to me.
When the sun sets behind the Opera House.
And it’s time to go home.
That’s when you’re to come to me.
With your heart.
And your shot-gun.
So I never lose my head again.
In a tastefully furnished living room..
So I never stand once more on the window ledge.
And seem a bit nutty.
With a briar rose in my hand.
So I never crawl once more through the subways.
With an awful song.
On my cracked lips.
You must come now, you must come right now!
Quite simply because I can’t stand it otherwise.
Quite simply because it’s so bloody insistent.
Quite simply because I’m a completely ordinary woman.
Perfectly healthy and moderately overweight.
Quite domesticated, helpful and nervous.
Nice and kind and very frightened.
With general interests and an unexploited literary vein.

To see the original poem, go to here

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