
OR WHEN, suddenly, one turns and looks at you as if
you both came to the world for this reason; you don’t talk
to each other however his glance again wonders towards
the unanswerable from which the holy grace was painfully
given to you and other times when you mold a pitcher
in your wheel or you write a word in the sand separation
already stands between you two and we now know where
the man who gets up to leave will finally go, only that
he started before us, like the mothers who, if darkness
comes, it’s because they were so tired and fell asleep
for a while.