Let me be your little moon,
lunar beck, a dionean shipwreck.
Take me off your orbit soon –
I’ll still dream your hands around my neck.
You must be sick of hearing me apologise
so exonerate me, take away my voice.
Make a noose for me, I’ll follow through,
praying mute and powder-blue.
I’m so tired of negotiation. Give me easy absolution
cut off my tongue with the right hymns unsung
blacken my gaze blank eyes ablaze
a metal spoon would suffice
I want to be a sacrifice
of luminous violent lust –
grind me to planetary dust!
Kaisa Saarinen grew up in the Finnish countryside, studied environmental politics and now works as a research analyst in London. @kuuhulluutta