site map
Jam Aase Berg

A wasp bends over the soft-skinned front breast to puke up jam. At the same time, its lancets pump poison into the sore.

I boil the dragonfly in fresh milk. A tiny feeler wriggles and writhes on my sticky blood lip. I suck the juices out of the lamprey - I press the clump up against the palate with my tongue. The soft parts crunch. Out of the ulcerated corner of my mouth leaks a creamy muck of wasp-pigments and starch. Small larvae swim beneath the skin. Small larvae glide and glitter beneath the thin virgin skin.

Suction cups ache. Sugar solution flows inside the dragonfly. A wasp, shimmering with secretions, creeps slowly across my fermented thigh, my bruised death-hip.

It glows brightly.

Translated from the Swedish by Johannes Goransson