Never again has a body come into light
like that which Artemis, rising
from the right into the tumult of battle
pulled out of herself. Her body emerges. It acclaims
itself and its surging−
the folds in her tunic are beside themselves
The bulge of cloth underneath her breast
makes the marble soft and liquid
(no blood is shed, only victory matters, everything is at stake)
Her knee grazes the dog fighting beside her
delicately
A knee that puts every knee
in the world to shame
A knee that continues perfectly into the calf
−everything as if chiseled, the sandal with which she
puts her foot on the vanquished foe
trampling him
Kill Bill, performed by the gods (Hollywood in heaven)
Torsos twisted by the torque of the beautiful
where every gap gasps for breath
as beauty here and trauma make their peace

Übertragen von Mark Anderson