Another evening
falling, fading
into the crevice of loneliness.
Feet, lacking strength
to cross walls
circle and circle
within the darkness of the inner rooms.
The breath of the room’s
proprieties rises, sulphurous,
in the hot wind.
Meaningless to dig out
frozen dreams
or try to melt them down:
there can be no change of opinion.
In this universe
there may be many creatures
alone with their prey
living amicably together
leading pleasant lives.
These tense nights
that are yet to come,
the baby’s restless whimpering
will be transformed, perhaps
into a joke turned against me.
The present is as tangled
as the world of a cat
that lurks in the kitchen.
A thick skin forms on the tea
waiting to be drunk.
The smell of scorched food compels.
In reception rooms
full of animation
there is no one at all
whose acquaintance I can claim.
The solitude of the bathroom
awakens a fear
of despising the naked.
Houses risen high within cages
extend themselves
only to frighten me.
In this garden
enclosed within four walls
there is no shade for me to sit.
The open spaces
of the roof-terrace
secure no privacy.
There is no chair anywhere
on which I can sit
and swing my legs.
If only the baby
were to lend me his cradle
it might be possible to sleep.