Marion Poschmann

1969 / Essen

Mercy asylum

baroque this desire to overflow,
twitching eyelids, twitching legs,
thickly sugar-encrusted sleep, sweet burden
of this flesh and already beyond your control,
already liquid in pictures, private
TV channel, rosy-pink juice I swallowed
you've screwed your lips to mine
and my body, pumping and dreaming,
moves along with the remote

we're going on air, limbs
touching, giving signals, my skin
full of syrup, I stick
to you, late-night series blurring,
insubstantial movies, REM phases, channel-hopping
the night works us

I feel like cracking up,
you test in your sleep
the hands' ability to grasp,
test exotic fruits, stir them
in hot compotes of seething peaches,
plums, apricots, the pictures combine,
viscously I see heart chambers, slide photos
of completely sugared walls,
a ray of light, a culinary studio stabilising
and your fingers scan me until I'm heavy,
translucent, shining, body candied

Translated by Catherine Hales
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