Divji nohti
Njegovi nohti
so se zmeraj razraščali
kot redke
krempljaste rogovile.
Spotikali
so me.
Do njegovega naročja
se nisem mogla prebiti.
Z grozečimi robovi
so nazobčeni sekali na vse strani.
Spraskali so moje upe,
me prestrašili do
koščic.
Njihov smrad po alkoholu
mi je hrbet prepičil
z rjavečim sramom
in me skoraj sploščil
s tlemi.
Enkrat si je dal nohte
izrezati do živega
mesa.
Prazne, mehke
blazinice prstov
bi lahko odrešile tudi mene.
Zato sem narahlo,
neopazno pobožala
ranjenca.
Vse je postalo tako normalno.
Dokler mu divji nohti niso
znova zrasli.
In potem sem nehala
biti otrok.
Wild Nails
His nails
always grew
like rare,
gnarled claws.
They tripped
me up
and kept me
from his embrace.
With their menacing edges,
they slashed in all directions.
They scraped away my hopes
and scared me
to my very core.
The stench of alcohol
clung to them,
piercing my back with corroding shame,
almost crushing me
to the ground.
Once, he had them
cut back to the living
flesh.
The bare, soft
pads of his fingers
could have saved me, too.
So, I gently, imperceptibly
caressed
the wounded man.
Everything felt so normal.
Until his wild nails
grew back again.
And then I stopped,
I was a child no more.
(Translated from the Slovenian by Martha Kosir)
