***[when a human dies]
when a human being dies
doors bang
cars move
and clouds stretch across the sky
a cat washes its face
people rush past
a computer hums next-door
a large man lies prostrate
taking up half the floor
or a quarter
or at least a fifth
his body in the grip of spasms
his face turning blue
his eyes no longer seeing
nor revealing
from his mouth comes
a trickle of blood
he no longer talks
not now
or ever again
a large heavy body
turned onto its side
that you try to the last to save
though no hope is left
then the moment comes
you are alive
and see and think and feel
that this familiar figure
neither sees nor thinks nor feels
when a human being dies
it changes nothing
the street is bustling
someone leaves work
locks the office door
a mother takes her daughter
home from kindergarten
buying biscuits on the way
no crying today
a tram turns left
a lift descends
sugar grains on a café table
at a factory gate
a man asks for a light
gets it
says thanks
is silent
like every other day
at a level crossing
a waiting taxi driver
swears in his own language
the radio airs ads
the first drop
hits the windscreen
the sky is grey the concrete is grey
the tarmac is wet
and grey
not a blade of grass in sight
in a green house
an old woman whose feet are cold
sits alone in front of a TV
when a human being dies
everything stays the same
it couldn’t be otherwise
it couldn’t be otherwise
that you don’t believe it
***[we are born in hospitals]
we are born in hospitals
long dreary corridors
footsteps echoing in silence
the suffocating smell
of chlorine and medicines
the walls steeped in disease
our names in the register
all is in order
papers are filed
the files locked away
a guard desk at the door
no more visitors
for you today
outside it grows dark
round the corner the morgue
move your feet
says the cleaner
***[I’m not scared of butterflies]
I’m not scared of butterflies
or
or… or…
or
ladybirds
even
announced the red-hatted child
on the lasnamäe morning bus
you who compose formulae
and cause us to react
grant us also the courage
not to fear that
which we desire
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
fs, or Indrek Mesikepp (b. 1971), is a distinctive voice in contemporary Estonian poetry, known for his clear, restrained, and quietly suggestive style. His poems often unfold in industrial and urban landscapes—factories, housing estates, and suburban wastelands—expressing a calm, existential outlook without overt protest. Notable collections include Valgete kaantega raamat (Book With White Covers, 2000), dedicated to Ian Curtis, 2004, inspired by Orwell’s 1984 and recipient of the Estonian Cultural Endowment’s poetry prize, as well as Tätoveeritud inimene (The Tattooed Person, 2019), which continues his exploration of intimate, socially resonant themes.
Marked by a speech-like rhythm and a simplicity that avoids excess metaphor, fs’s poetry delivers emotional depth through understatement. Since 2021, he has served as editor-in-chief of Estonia’s leading literary magazine, Looming.
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