We are going to gather lizards. Lizards that glow red in the flood sheen. We are going to place them next to the wax girl’s body while she sleeps in a deep trance. The big iron pounds. We are going to gather lizards for the night. Adrian hates me. Adrian hates me, he hates himself against me, I feel lightning, I carry flood. The skin stone gnaws hard. We are going to pick lizards; we are going to thread lizards on a long strong poison thread. Out there song lakes wait open blue. All beautiful eyes watch us from the trees: the glass animals awaken. We are going to catch lizards: glass lizards, red pearl lizards, and place in a pattern for the night.
Now! Now! We see one of the blood corpses with a bundle of lizards in its mouth. It has happened. How can we now live? How can we live?
For we will now no longer gather lizards.
poem by Aase Berg
translated from the Swedish by Johannes Goransson