Short, Fast, and Deadly

Cafe Berlin

Inside
The smell of tobacco
Music playing low
A shattered mirror in the occupied bathroom

Outside
Nothing

by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Sleeping Silhouette

The landscape of you rests soft, feminine--almost childlike. It makes you look vulnerable, a beautiful veracity, stripped of shielding gender. It makes me wish I were a painter, if only so that I could copy that one line of your contour, one stroke of perfection against an empty canvas. As much as I wish to I don't have that power over my hand and the mere thought of the movement distorts you.
 
by Sofia Westman of Umeå

In the Subway

A saxophonist’s tunes
drowned
by the incoming train
 
Again
 
by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

White Lies

Sticky
and salty
and bruised by delicacy
 
Her body
slides into dreams
of what I’ll never be

by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Sheraton Loneliness

Strawberries
perfect ice cubes
a bottle of Chardonnay
 
And all those people
fifty-two floors down
still far away
 
By Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Leather Dreams

That leathery smell.

So turned on. So easily fucked.

But I start making breakfasts.

And you go elsewhere, anywhere.

I say I don´t give a shit like I don´t give a shit.

We fuck like nothing again, like everything.

I watch you sleep and for a shallow illiterate you catch on pretty fast.
 
My clinginess, like pink gum.

It´s impressive; the speed with which you jump into your signature leather.

The speed with which you leave.
 
by A.S. of Ostersund

85 years old

As the stream splits
and pours down the toilet seat

and his shaky fingers
are all wet

he promises himself
to never sit down   
 
by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Blood and Water

The game wasn’t over, but we took a break from the hammering sun. I sat on the ball and drank from my water bottle. Deep, heavy gulps.
 
"You look like your sister" Amir said. "Sucking like that"
 
Everybody got quiet.                                                    
 
I stood up, my pupils in his. Our breathing noses almost touching each other. I took a large sip from the bottle and spat.
 
As I walked away I heard them start again. The game wasn’t over.

 
by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Why I want you near

Your
 
nails in my neck
breath in my ear
lips on my tear
 
by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Raincoat

Heavy raindrops on pools of water. A grey dead-end street. What are you thinking?

 

She sits there with her usual cup of tea.

 
Nothing, I say.
 

I look toward the other corner of the café, but she catches my gaze. Holds it. She opens her mouth. Once, twice, but nothing comes out.

 

What do you want? she finally says. What do you need?

 

I stare out the window. The pools are all stirred up and broken now.

 
A raincoat, I say.
 
by Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

Summer Night

The man took each breath as gently as he could. The air tasted like salt.

"Are you hot?" he asked.

It was past midnight, but not dark yet. A blue-grey light filled the loft. The woman’s leg was hanging loose off the bed. He slipped past it and opened the window.

"You were right," he said.

It felt less stuffy now and the only thing the man could smell was her. She was beautiful and motionless and still facing the sheets.

By Carl-Henrik Björck of Umea

X

Excavation, a present past (I can't show)
Extrication, this can't last (I do know)
Exuviation, thicker skin fast (I need flow)
Ex, cast (now)

by Magnus Lundqvist of Jönköping