Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Paul Bogaert

QUIET

You never hesitate when you speak
and you’re a spitting image when you’re silent
of somebody who just knows best.
But now a little vomit clings
like words still to your lips,
to your open mouth, you can’t make it
leak out, make it speak out.

You must learn to inhale slowly
when I kiss your moist lips,
your goose-flesh tongue.
The uvula needs perfume now:
you should put the atomizer aperture
inside your mouth and squeeze
and swallow, not choke.

STIL

STIL

Gij aarzelt niet als ge wat zegt
en gij lijkt sprekend als ge zwijgt
op iemand die het beter weet.
Maar nu er nog wat braaksel hangt
als woorden aan uw lippen,
aan uw open mond, nu krijgt
gij het niet uitgelekt, niet uitgelegd.

Trager moet gij leren inhaleren
als ik uw natte lippen kus,
uw tong van kippenvel.
De huig moet nu geparfumeerd:
gij moet de opening van de verstuiver
in de mondholte houden en drukken
en slikken, niet stikken.
Close

QUIET

You never hesitate when you speak
and you’re a spitting image when you’re silent
of somebody who just knows best.
But now a little vomit clings
like words still to your lips,
to your open mouth, you can’t make it
leak out, make it speak out.

You must learn to inhale slowly
when I kiss your moist lips,
your goose-flesh tongue.
The uvula needs perfume now:
you should put the atomizer aperture
inside your mouth and squeeze
and swallow, not choke.

QUIET

You never hesitate when you speak
and you’re a spitting image when you’re silent
of somebody who just knows best.
But now a little vomit clings
like words still to your lips,
to your open mouth, you can’t make it
leak out, make it speak out.

You must learn to inhale slowly
when I kiss your moist lips,
your goose-flesh tongue.
The uvula needs perfume now:
you should put the atomizer aperture
inside your mouth and squeeze
and swallow, not choke.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère