translated by Lena Kallergi 

 

You know where to find me. Next to the window, waiting for the robin, dragging
winter by the leg. I watered a tree for winter; it is give and take, you see. A tree and
bread from me, stones and chill from him. I am waiting for the whiteout, for its
sharpened scalpel to spread my children out in the snow. You will see me at
Christmas. Hanging from a discolored branch, somewhere in the shadow, you will
find me. Behind the string lights, their burning head deep in my flesh, me, the well-
fed dog. With the summers burning every 31st and the autumn, moribund, moaning
under the mud. What kind of spring can one wait for in this elliptical round? You will
find me, always collapsed in the same box. Tangled with wires, having my fill of
darkness. In the attic that shrieks between the nails. There in the back, spitting out
dust and mildew on your evening meal.

 

     Minus Sixteen, Melani Publications, 2016