Untitled
by Soffía Bjarnadóttir
I thought that we were written in stars, she said.
With invisible ink, he said.
Time doesn’t exist, he said, she said.
We are nowhere.
Lay me down, a signet ring, in the charred ruins.
Untitled poem, translated by Meg Matich.
Untitled
by Soffía Bjarnadóttir
Time is time is time is
time vanished
into a tree.
One day, a branch reached
down from the sky.
Untitled poem, translated by Meg Matich.
Originally appeared in EuropeNow journal.
Burning Smell
by Fríða Ísberg
mom is turning into
an unanswered phone call
here are my limits
she says and chalks
a circle around herself
her embrace, once hot
now hardens
still, cinders slip
into her mail slot
often,
as if in tow
as if she herself bears the torch
that burns the bridge behind her
mom barks into the phone
like a chained dog
forbidden from moving closer
and when she does
she wants nothing but to comb
your hair, hold your hand
braid her long fingers
with your short ones
she asks you to sing her song
howls it out of an open car window
laughs: we‘re not in tune
and she‘s right
you’re off-key
you can’t grow up fast enough
she can’t calm herself down
Translated by Fríða Ísberg and Meg Matich.
Originally appeared in EuropeNow journal.
Fire Mother
by Fríða Ísberg
They’ve persisted
in watering me
for years
placed me on the window sill
stored me there
forgot me there
but it’s fine:
add fuel to the flames
it’s fine:
a woman is the pyre
Translated by Fríða Ísberg and Meg Matich.
Originally appeared in EuropeNow journal.