You I Haven’t Written About


you i haven’t written about
but still
it’s because of you
i can’t listen to the city without
turning to ice
it’s because of you
i can’t chase stars at night without
seeing too much empty in the air
it’s you
whom i think of when i meet someone new at that wine bar
whom i’m afraid of running into everywhere
bus stops, campus, shopping centres, beaches, gigs, parties
because of you
i’m still not over my la lost land
and you
I haven’t written about

My Life Was Not Mine

While watching the clouds travel on my windows
I realized
my life was not mine

(it belonged to everyone who loved me; I was owned by the people I trusted in)

and that is why
I could not let go
I was to protect theirs too
against all odds
the two sitting at the backseat
you too own a breath of me and I of you
therefore, I will keep my eyes on our road until hurt,
and even when

Herään mereen

siellä missä kalat nukkuvat
ja haikara vallitsee
istun aamukuuteen

punaisen hetken värjätessä kallion
ensimmäinen lokki nousee
joutsenet heräävät kivikon takaa
hauet näyttäytyvät
ja meren tuoksu valmistautuu

laiturin nokkaan lyö uusi viileä
tyyni pinta vilkastuu
raukeus kovettuu virkeäksi valoksi
minua aallot liikuttavat.

minussa koitto liplattaa
kimeistä korkeuksista tiiraillaan aamiaista
kun kaislikko vielä uinuu

kivi ei ole lämmennyt
kun hiukset kelluvat laineilla

seuraan valon tahdissa kiihtyvää aamua
varpaat jäätyvät, keho kohmettuu
naakat syöksyvät suin päin juuri kun
haikaran vahti päättyy ja
minä sukellan.

kotiini kesään

olen rakastunut taas


ikimereen, joka iltavalossa heijastaa pohjan punertavia muistoja
joka sadepäivänä rauhoittaa kaupungin värit yhdeksi
joka lapsuuden kolmen kuun kesälomina pysyi yhtenä sinisenä, keltaisena ja vihreänä viivana
läpi aamun mansikkamaidon
läpi mustikan poiminnan kasteisissa metsissä
läpi ensimmäisten souturetkien
läpi monen tunnin saunomisen ja koko päivän uimisen
läpi mummin kanssa leipomisen
siihen asti, kunnes meren muisti katkeaa

olen rakastunut taas


in clear skies
i walk under my umbrella
and where my cover cannot reach
streets are bombed by the mind’s raindrops

as i watch the cement under attack
i can hear the seagulls’ call,
seas of mothers strolling through the market,
and whining toddlers asking for ice cream

i scream
and open my eyes to a serene summer’s day

“the closest to love i have ever been”

the closest to love i have ever been
were those five hours of crying at the airport
when tears of tempesting young pain flowed down so in the line for check-in
that i could not say bonjour to the employee in a navy-blue blazer
i bought something to eat because one should, and opened my salad
but the cucumbers stuck to my throat where the sorrow had made its nest
and there was no place for sense, rhythm, or words,
nor avoiding the judging old madames’ long gazes
there was only a ghost of a human (me), pain, and sad-salted lettuce
on the plane, i saw my reflection on the yellow fields of southern towns
i still could not devour, even though i remembered all
those hot bus trips across the mountains in the middle
those train journeys to mystery destinations, before unseen to our eyes
those exciting encounters even from the other side of the globe
those electrical moments with him, whom i still think of while hearing Irish music
and then
those evenings in the garden that spread its fresher than green smell of youth and hope
to me and to you, with glasses of rosé and home-cooked meals for two
there were even catastrophes, oh there was boredom, there was anger
but i remember all of the good moments with you too
picnics in the backyard of friends on the top of a country hill, where foreign birds sang
their intoxicating stories to me and to us, and my head was all turned upside down
in Paris, i wrote you a message saying that i felt too far away from you already
but it didn’t send

the closest to love i have ever been
left me undone, alone even when in company, confused about picnics,
bitter for months, but now,
i have begun to think of us again, yet in this light powered by the aurora
i cannot see the gardens nor the okra-coloured miniature futures anymore
looking from here, i feel a little less empty.