Accident - Jenny Hval, Laura Jean

Once she was a mystery of life

Now she is skyping with her friend

They are both childless

It rings a hollow tone: childless

No longer a mystery of life.

Just less

She found stretch mark cream in an Airbnb bathroom

It was just cream

Rubbing it on her belly, she felt nothing

I was just an accident

I was just an accident

I was just an accident, even to myself

She is curious about crying nipples

To her friend she finds herself saying:

«I wonder how I’ve managed to avoid conceiving

You know, by accident

So many years.

So little fruit

You know, maybe I would’ve just kept it

Probably, I can’t even do it», she says

She eats dried figs from a container

I was an accident

I was an accident

Once I was an accident, and a mystery of life

Once I made people believe in miracles, or God, or love

I was the hour of the star

I moved like a jellyfish

I smelled of nothing

And she was told she was the closest

Her mother came to magic

She is made for other things

Born for cubist yearnings

Born to write.

Born to burn

She is an accident

She is flesh in dissent

She is an accident

A curious androgyne

She is an accident

Flesh in dissent

Flesh in dissent