Prix Laurence - Bettembourg Prix Laurence 2019 - Luxembourg
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Prix Laurence 2019

Suglia Cosimo - Tiny Grey Bovine





It stood there every night while it chewed grass and bathed in clear moonlight. A rather small creature clothed in musty grey fur that tangled down to its hoofs. I was not really sure, but it resembled a bison or a yack which had been shrunk, at least threefold. I could tell it had not been a cow for it showed no utter. Closer inspection had led me to believe this, because the straws of grass tickled the bovine’s nose and I would hear a severe grunt, as if the creature had been annoyed. It had been strangely human.

The first time I observed Jerky (as I have named him) it felt surreal. Its motionless movements of the mouth and dark enlightenment of the moon disturbed me to the core of my stomach. I jumped up, naked, because I looked out of the window from the top bathroom of my condo. The bathroom, situated beneath the roof, had windows positioned to such a degree that my head barely peeked outside. The bottom part of my body hid behind a mustard-coloured wall. From that day on, I would repeat this cycle: Come home from university, eat, take a shower and observe Jerky.

Soothing might be the more rational explanation of this tradition. I would ask myself questions, such as: “How come he is so tiny?”, “How come I don’t see him in daylight?”, “Who do you belong to, little friend?”, and finally, “Am I a pervert for looking at a undergrown cow-creature naked, late at night?”. The last question can easily be answered: no.

However, he became my sort of therapeutic venting tool. I would go outside with a foldable chair and sit in front of the metal fence. The bovine trotted towards me every time, and I fed him some questionable treats. He would eat everything. While he enjoyed the different snacks, I would tell him stories or philosophical subjects that swarmed through my mind, and he would always listen. I think the part about Murakami’s book had been his favourite, because he stopped licking my hand and looked at me with his green eyes.

This kept up for quite some time. Until one night I marched down the steps of the front garden, down the street to the pasture and a foreign entity sat in front of the fence, it occupied my space. It had been a woman, probably my age, lean with short black hair and an intellectual beauty. Her ears were decorated with pitch black piercings and her fingers hugged by a row of similar coloured rings. My shadow, thrown by the bright moonlight, darkened her left side, and she turned around to look at me. She tilted her head, closed her eyes and smiled. It disturbed me to the core of my heart. I jumped up, feeling naked.

“Hey, sorry I took your space!” The woman exclaimed, her voice tiny yet energetic.

“No…don’t worry.” I managed to produce.

The woman stood up from her olive-green camping chair and thrusted her hand in my general direction, “I am Emily. Nice to meet you!”

I shook her hand and could feel the wetness of my hand, which made me cringe.

“Sorry, this must be increasingly creepy to you. I live over there,” she pointed in a direction but I didn’t look, I was concentrated on her blue eyes, “I have been watching you, coming here for quite some time and you always looked like you had some fun with this little guy over here,” with her thump horizontal to the sky she pointed towards Jerky, “I thought I would join you guys sometime,” she smiled.

I sat my folding chair near hers, took out Jerky’s snacks and talked to both of them. The naked feeling I had before vanished, and warmth took reign of my body. I went to bed at six in the morning and skipped class the day after.

Emily studied German literature and it showed. Her constant rambling of Tod in Venedig was quite charming, nevertheless. One thing we could agree on, however, was the ingenuity and beauty of Neil Gaiman. And so, I was caught again in a new cycle.

Gradually, however, Jerky didn’t appear at night. He would be gone for a day, a week and then months. We were worried, but on the nights, he wasn’t there, I was able to spend even more time with Emily. Sometimes, we would go and eat fast food. Sometimes, we would watch a movie. Sometimes, we would make love beneath the usual moonlight. Until we stopped our daily visit.

Don’t get me wrong. I miss Jerky, and I can’t get the feeling of my chest that he was there to bring us together. As if he was sent by some mysterious surreal power to bring her and me together. Our cupid was a small, musty, grey-haired cow-like creature that endorsed daily hand licking. And, as I am writing this, thirty years after the disappearance of Jerky, I don’t even know if he was real, but he will forever be real in our hearts, our love and our children.

 

 




ageschéckt den: 21:02 Tue, 22 January 2019 vum: Suglia Cosimo

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Kleng Lecture, déi Iech vläicht weiderbréngt:


HELMUT BÖTTIGER

-  Wir sagen uns Dunkles
Die Liebesgeschichte zwischen
Ingeborg Bachmann und Paul Celan
DVA, 2017


PHILIP ROTH

-  Nemesis
Roman, rororo, 2018


GRACE PALEY

-  A Grace Paley Reader
Stories, essays, poetry

Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017

-  Manchmal kommen ...
Gedichte, Schöffling & Co, 2018

RON PADGETT

-  Die schönsten Streichhölzer der Welt
Englisch - Deutsch, mit den Gedichten
aus Jim Jarmuschs Film Paterson
Dieterich'sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 2017

STEFFEN POPP (Hrsgb.)

-  Spitzen
Gedichte. Fanbook. Hall of Fame.
edition suhrkamp, 2018

JAN WAGNER

-  Die Live Butterfly Show
Gedichte, Hanser Berlin, 2018

ZENO BIANU

-  Infiniment proche
Poésie, Gallimard, 2015

ANTHOLOGIE BEAT ATTITUDE

-  Femmes poètes de la Beat Generation
éditions Bruno Doucey, 2018

CHARLES SIMIC

-  Picknick in der Nacht
Gedichte, Hanser, 2016


TAHA MUHAMMAD ALI

-  An den Ufern der Dunkelheit
Gedichte aus Palästina
Fischer Taschenbuch, 2013


SERHIJ ZHADAN

-  Warum ich nicht im Netz bin
Gedichte und Prosa aus dem Krieg
Suhrkamp, 2016


HAIKU ANTHOLOGIE

-  Das Buch der klassischen Haiku
Hrsgb. Jan Ulenbrook
Reclam, 2018


KATE TEMPEST

-  Let Them Eat Chaos
Sollen sie doch Chaos fressen
Lyrik, edition suhrkamp, 2018

-  Hold Your Own
Gedichte, Suhrkamp, 2016

-  Worauf du dich verlassen kannst
Roman, Rowohlt, 2016

TOMAS BJORNSTAD

-  Fjorde
Lyrik, édition g. binsfeld, 2018

LUC SPADA

-  Fass mich an
Beats, Punchlines, Bitchmoves
édition g. binsfeld, 2017


NICO HELMINGER

-  Autopsie
Roman (op lëtz.), Ultimomondo, 2014

-  Abrasch
Poesie, éd. phi, 2013

GEORGES HAUSEMER
(1957 - 2018)

-  Fuchs im Aufzug
Erzählungen, capybarabooks, 2017

KREMART

-  Déi 20 kleng Bicher am "Schuber"
aus der Collectioun smart
Erzielungen, éd. Kremart, 2017
 


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