Poems / February 23, 2026

Tímarit

Fríða Ísberg

[The word for magazine in my language: time writings]

 

I cautiously descend the stairs into myself
not faltering but not sure-footed, either, not quite

I try being funny just to see what will happen
try looking tired so I’ll be excused

I don’t get hungry anymore, and yet I eat all the time
one heaping plate after another

cautiously, descend
scrutinizing each floor as if at an open house

I don’t need to renovate
lazy by nature, I’ve yet to take the studded tires off the car and it’s mid-May

my knuckles are white 

I am not what I eat
I am what I sleep

every morning, my daughter points to the living room window
and says: get the sun

I clink when I walk
my feet are piggy banks

what have I saved up?
steps? love? saying what I want?

I want more time
and if these are the years that pass in a fog
I also want as much comfort as possible 

in twenty years, I’ll emerge from the earth
a mole in late middle age

and I won’t remember writing this poem
while eating this apple

is this life?
yes, this is life, growing larger and smaller in turn
double bags, half-circles under half-circles 

I no longer think in metaphors
metaphors are a privilege

I’ve stopped releasing eggs, I’m stockpiling them
to lob at judiciously chosen houses
like stones 

I punch all sorts of things into a little calculator
estimate the viability of my thoughts
estimate what freedom will cost  

what writing will cost
a clean house

in my language, the verb for
being willing to spend
is to time 

this is because time is our true currency

can I time twenty-four hours?
can I time a week? can I time ten days?

I have a talent:
I can always squeeze a bit more out of a tube of toothpaste

I wend my way down all manner of paths, tramp all manner of treads
reflect tranquility back to some people and childlike glee to others

chemistry is everything
chemistry is really the only thing I’m chasing

me and this apple

but why has my chemistry with
time changed? my rhythm mutated

Monday, Friday, Monday, Friday

ten years ago
I almost broke my husband’s dick

since then, I haven’t gotten my rhythm back again
that way, on top

something happens, and we change
we sleep poorly, and we change

my eyes, two full moons
encircled by shining halos

I walk up stairs and down
forget shopping bags in the middle of the sidewalk, drive away

put dirty clothes in, take clean clothes out
wash this body every two days

I don’t time and my feet are piggy banks 

the laughing and the crying in my house
sync up with the washing machine

I time not verbs anymore, hop from noun to noun

can’t tell you what I did yesterday
yesterday, ferryboat, the great fog

when I hit puberty, I became fixated with
how to have sex without being naked

nudity was an impossibility

until it wasn’t

I think about that a lot, wonder
what will be possible later that is impossible now?

my body has stopped releasing eggs
doesn’t time them, energy-wise

they are piling up now, all in one beautiful raffia basket
month after month

pretty soon, I’m going to cast them, like stones
at some judiciously chosen house

(Translated by Larissa Kyzer)

Support independent journalism that does not fall in line

Even before February 28, the reasons for Donald Trump’s imploding approval rating were abundantly clear: untrammeled corruption and personal enrichment to the tune of billions of dollars during an affordability crisis, a foreign policy guided only by his own derelict sense of morality, and the deployment of a murderous campaign of occupation, detention, and deportation on American streets. 

Now an undeclared, unauthorized, unpopular, and unconstitutional war of aggression against Iran has spread like wildfire through the region and into Europe. A new “forever war”—with an ever-increasing likelihood of American troops on the ground—may very well be upon us.  

As we’ve seen over and over, this administration uses lies, misdirection, and attempts to flood the zone to justify its abuses of power at home and abroad. Just as Trump, Marco Rubio, and Pete Hegseth offer erratic and contradictory rationales for the attacks on Iran, the administration is also spreading the lie that the upcoming midterm elections are under threat from noncitizens on voter rolls. When these lies go unchecked, they become the basis for further authoritarian encroachment and war. 

In these dark times, independent journalism is uniquely able to uncover the falsehoods that threaten our republic—and civilians around the world—and shine a bright light on the truth. 

The Nation’s experienced team of writers, editors, and fact-checkers understands the scale of what we’re up against and the urgency with which we have to act. That’s why we’re publishing critical reporting and analysis of the war on Iran, ICE violence at home, new forms of voter suppression emerging in the courts, and much more. 

But this journalism is possible only with your support.

This March, The Nation needs to raise $50,000 to ensure that we have the resources for reporting and analysis that sets the record straight and empowers people of conscience to organize. Will you donate today?

Fríða Ísberg

Fríða Ísberg is an Icelandic author based in Reykjavík. Her books are the poetry collections Stretch Marks and Leather Jacket Weather, the short story collection Itch and her debut novel The Mark.

More from The Nation

Robert A.M. Stern gives a construction tour of the George W. Bush Presidential Center.

The Neoliberalism of Robert A.M. Stern The Neoliberalism of Robert A.M. Stern

The passing of postmodern architecture’s last living holdout marks the end of an era—and reminds us that we’re in a new, worse one.

Kate Wagner

The Cinema of Societal Collapse

The Cinema of Societal Collapse The Cinema of Societal Collapse

This year’s Oscar-nominated international feature films—especially The Secret Agent and Sirāt—tackle what it means to live and die under tyranny.

Books & the Arts / Vikram Murthi

A page taken from the Merriam-Webster's Desktop Dictionary, 2016.

Can the Dictionary Keep Up? Can the Dictionary Keep Up?

In Stefan Fatsis’s capacious, and at times score-settling, personal history of the reference book, he reveals what the dictionary can still tell us about language in modern life

Books & the Arts / Lora Kelley

An internet cafe in Beijing, 2007.

Why We Misunderstand the Chinese Internet Why We Misunderstand the Chinese Internet

Journalist Yi-Ling Liu’s The Wall Dancers traces how the Internet affected daily life in China, showing how similar this corner of the Web is to the one experienced in the West.

Books & the Arts / Rebecca Liu

The Bad Vibes of “Wuthering Heights”

The Bad Vibes of “Wuthering Heights” The Bad Vibes of “Wuthering Heights”

Keeping its distance from the novel, Emerald Fennell’s film ends up offering us a mirror of our own times.

Books & the Arts / Sarah Chihaya

A fast-food restaurant in France, 1982.

Has Contemporary Fiction Ignored the Working Class? Has Contemporary Fiction Ignored the Working Class?

Claire Baglin’s bracing On the Clock gives its readers a close look at work behind the fry station, and in the process asks what experiences are missing from mainstream letters.

Books & the Arts / Rachel Vorona Cote