{"id":302286,"date":"1991-01-01T00:01:21","date_gmt":"1990-12-31T23:01:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/dbnl\/marieke-jonkman-4\/"},"modified":"2021-06-04T15:41:34","modified_gmt":"2021-06-04T14:41:34","slug":"marieke-jonkman-4","status":"publish","type":"dbnl","link":"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/marieke-jonkman-4\/","title":{"rendered":"Marieke Jonkman"},"content":{"rendered":"
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[p. 461]<\/div>\r\n<\/a>\r\n

\r\nMarieke Jonkman<\/i>\r\n<\/h3>\r\n\r\n

Portret<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Vriendinnen zijn gestorven. ‘s Nachts zwaaien<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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wij even. Plaagbeest was nog onbedorven<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en wou na hora est<\/i> gaan leven.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Vader is dood. Het pijnlijk verwijt<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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\r\njij bent de bron van dit verdroogd bestaan<\/i>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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was krijtwit blijven staan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Mijn zoon is nooit geboren, nooit word ik<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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voortgeplant. Niemand wil mij horen.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Plooibaar trek ik langs de waterkant.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
[p. 462]<\/div>\r\n

Jas<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Tot op de kuit. Onzekerheid zeurt in de zoom<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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maar de ceintuur geeft zekerheid. Vreugde en vrede<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vallen niet goed in de plooi. Knopen spelen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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aan mouw en voorpand met wat ik zie en droom.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Zakken staan van zelfzucht bol, de binnenzak<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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geneest geen hand. Dit is gestorven goed.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ik trek hem uit en spring u juichend tegemoet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 463]<\/div>\r\n

Godin<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Zij draagt een hals van porselein,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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ze spreekt en grijs wordt fleurig,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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haar stem kristalliseert in eerlijk waar.<\/i>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Als zij ontwaakt strekt het moeras zich<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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tot de oever uit. Wegzakken, stikken,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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sterven. Ze siddert, de vingers gekromd.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Verwijt mij nu geen pathetiek.<\/i> Elke morgen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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speel ik godin, bang en doodziek.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 464]<\/div>\r\n

Po\u00ebzie<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Hoog troont ze in haar wagentje. Wanneer ze<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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vrije doorgang vraagt, beveelt ze alleman.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ze komt als laatste maar ze zit vooraan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Agressie had me stevig in de ban. Een zuster<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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met diploma’s mocht dit nimmer overkomen:<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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dit ongeval was mij niet toegestaan.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Oostindisch doof liet ik haar stikken<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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op de troon van chroom. Mijn oor genoot:<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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een koningin ging eenzaam dood.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 465]<\/div>\r\n

Wiegedood<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Ze huilde deze ochtend niet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ik zweefde uit routine naar het riet<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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waarin mijn weggedoken dochter sliep.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ze was nog warm, verder kwam ik niet.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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De rest is toegift. En toch schreeuwen<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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om een dokter. Havenlawaai.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het dreef al uren op de stroom<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en met een brede zwaai nam het de bocht.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Ik kletste in verleden tijd<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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en was voorgoed mijn toekomst kwijt.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n\r\n
[p. 466]<\/div>\r\n

Amazone<\/h4>\r\n\r\n
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Sloeg ze te hard? Het paard strui-<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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kelde. Brak zijn nek. Ze huilde,<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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hoorde het publiek te keer gaan<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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en wierp het zweepje tussen rozestruiken<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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toen haar verslagen vriend werd opgeruimd.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\r\nKoop toch een glanzend bruine racefiets.<\/i>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Wie zoiets zegt begrijpt er geen syllabe van.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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Alleen een paard kan draven als de po\u00ebzie.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n
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\u00a0<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n
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Het zat erg diep. Ze nam een flat en brak haar nek.<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n<\/div>
\n

Over dit hoofdstuk\/artikel<\/h3>\n

Anton Ent<\/a><\/p>\n
\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[p. 461] Marieke Jonkman Portret \u00a0 Vriendinnen zijn gestorven. ‘s Nachts zwaaien \u00a0 wij even. Plaagbeest was nog onbedorven \u00a0 en wou na hora est gaan leven. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Vader is dood. Het pijnlijk verwijt \u00a0 jij bent de bron van dit verdroogd bestaan \u00a0 was krijtwit blijven staan. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Mijn zoon… Lees verder <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","class_list":["post-302286","dbnl","type-dbnl","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nMarieke Jonkman · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.vanoorschot.nl\/en\/dbnl\/marieke-jonkman-4\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Marieke Jonkman · Uitgeverij Van Oorschot\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"[p. 461] Marieke Jonkman Portret \u00a0 Vriendinnen zijn gestorven. ‘s Nachts zwaaien \u00a0 wij even. Plaagbeest was nog onbedorven \u00a0 en wou na hora est gaan leven. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Vader is dood. Het pijnlijk verwijt \u00a0 jij bent de bron van dit verdroogd bestaan \u00a0 was krijtwit blijven staan. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Mijn zoon... 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Plaagbeest was nog onbedorven \u00a0 en wou na hora est gaan leven. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Vader is dood. Het pijnlijk verwijt \u00a0 jij bent de bron van dit verdroogd bestaan \u00a0 was krijtwit blijven staan. \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Mijn zoon... 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