Speak first after you have gone

Don't speak of love
after one night.
I too am silent
speak first after you are gone.

Whisper to the flower
talk to the shoe
yell to the fire

The rain hits the asphalt
squeezing hair
against my breasts.
After the last swallow
has flown north.
I am alone.

Lie to me
deceive me
I will make you my poetry

To your senses
birch leaves
familiar but
when I taste you
a bitter flash on my tongue
throat burning

The young birch doesn't ask what time it is
it has an ocean of time

The tree asks what time it is
and figures out
when the resin will lose its sweetness

The dried fir doesn't ask what time it is
it has an ocean of time

You are a safe thought
blue on the horizon
I cover myself with your rays

but the sun rises no more
its rays extinguished
blue pushed into darkness

my time is up
I forget to breathe
smoke rising from desolate countries

between the clouds
I fasten my sinker
crawling after the line
over dwarf birches
waving at the ants
with my ring finger
see you later

Inger-Mari "Ima" Aikio is from Ohcejohka/Utsjoki.
The above poems are from her book Gollebiekkat almmi dievva. They were translated into Norwegian for the anthology Våja Våja Nana Nana, compiled by Harald Gaski.

From #4, Fall 1996
Translated from Norwegian by Arden Johsnon

Go to Ima Poetry page two