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