Is That Really Something Poem by Paul Bogaert

He throws her on the bed, it has to be done,
the polo neck must come off,
the rest as well, a rip doesn't matter, he must quickly
lie with his skin
upon her skin; she is hypothermic.

Whether that's really something for me? Of course.
If it works with those pores, then she'll be saved!

I am old enough; I know
the combinations to which this context leads.
She sweats and she coughs and she must now feel him.
The cabin - what a beautiful cabin - is a cabin
round a rat. For life.

Translation: Diane Butterman