Featured Poet: Sylvie Marie

Eyewear is very glad to welcome, this ice-cold London Friday, Sylvie Marie (pictured above) born in Belgium in 1984.  She has published poetry in several magazines and anthologies. Her first collection of poetry Zonder (which means Without) was published in 2009 and was received with great praise by the Dutch press."this may be the most remarkable poetry debut of the recent years", one critic said. Marie is also editor of the Dutch literary magazines Meander and Deus Ex Machina. She writes a poem every week for the widespread Flemish magazine Humo.  I met her in October at the Maastricht International Poetry Nights, where we were both guest readers.  The poem below was translated into English  by Zoran Ancevski with the poet.

soms

soms wil ik je dood, schat,

niet dat ik je dood wil maar

ik zou je lichaam wel eens

willen dragen wanneer

je hand ontkracht naar

beneden bungelt en je tong eruit.

ik zie me je al jaren torsen tot

oog en vlees vergaan, de

schilfers van je huid achtergelaten

als om de weg terug te weten

maar om nooit te gebruiken.

uiteindelijk zou alleen nog

het skelet met botjes, kootjes en

andere kruimels achterblijven,

jij dan licht geworpen als een

zomerjasje over mijn schouder,

mijn pink in het lusje.

sometimes

sometimes I want you dead, honey,

not that I really want you to die

but I would like to carry your body

once when your hand’s

hanging powerless down and

with your tongue dangling out.

I see myself hauling you for years till

eye and flesh putrefy, the flakes of your skin

left behind as a help to remember

the way back home.

eventually only your skeleton

with tiny bones and crumbs would lag

behind, you thrown slightly as a summer jacket

over my shoulder, my little finger

in the loop.

poem by Sylvie Marie; published with permission of the author.