I Eat Poetry

SOLO

the wire. the ghetto. an eastern landscape.
over the sea the sedge rustles softly and in front of the pupil
the reeds resound
the city withers in the shackles of the night watch
the double body sinks to the meat straw
with a crinkle of dense grass.
zooming cicadas skewer slowly.
slowly the curtain goes down like a shroud
this is the first time i taste your life -
you wince but there is no tearing off -
the palms of your hands
your knees
your births
your departures into a hollow name
your touches
your
- drink
to drink of yours
- to drink
- to drink


ANNA GLAZOVA

Translated from the Russian by Max Nemtsov