Mattias Renberg poems

Involution In the early morningswhen the world sleepswe stretch the thin membranehiding our sneering beastfrom a world of ironed shirts. Territorial claims at the bus stop.An unaware prey (still sleeping),is awoken by a hyenas’ mad stare. The bus driver, half pig,greets all and no one with grunts.He is on schedule but actually never left the station. The metro is buzzing: everyone is collecting nectarfor the…

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