Karesuando church village. Winter 1920
(Ristin)

The Swede’s fingers 
all inside my mouth

clothing strewn
across the floor

-

Me thinking 
it was because of my
bad teeth

that the traveling doctor had come

-

With hard tools
he measured me

learned men
in every nook

With razor-sharp
scratching pens

they went
through me

-

I could tell that the
short one
was taking shape 
on their papers

Using royal ink
to draw
the racial animal

-

The shackles
of our obedience

unfastened
my home-sewn belt

-

My breasts hung
their distaste blazed

-

I saw how they
wrinkled their
slender noses

laughing
all the while

-

My friend beside me
was quick to help me
on with my kolt

Then she quietly translated
their questions
about what we did 
when menstruating

-

Over the doctor’s shoulder
the minister

-

And I heard him 
say in Finnish:

The way their men drink
makes God cry
and the Devil laugh

And the shame

took root in me

because of my dark hair
and my
dark eyes

-

Outside the barn
my friend’s daughters
shivering waiting 
for their treatment

-

And my poor Nila
was fished out

from where I don’t know

A camera was pointed
at his
upset face

until he just
sank through the floor

-

I watched them trample 
him
with heavy boots

Tall chairs
were dragged out and they
sat down on him

-

I noticed how big 
he’d gotten
not a child anymore

there he stood lost
and mute among their 
bare hands
touching him

-

He should come 
with us to the institution
said the doctor

and finally
my body obeyed

-

And I went up 
to the men
and pulled the weak one 
from the Swede’s grip