There is no door that can't be opened,
yet all stay shut. Policemen are just
people, paramedics have the right to be tired.
A hallway allows you to leave in many ways
but there are so many returns in language we just go around
in circles treating eavesdropped conversations as our own.
Circumstances, evidence and testimonies only interest
onlookers. As long as we don't think of ourselves as witnesses
one small “you" can contain two solitudes
just like the bottom of the eye contains the night even in full sun. It can't
get closer lest it hurt. In this way a new story is created
as if the old one had lost its meaning.
Death is busy in more than one kitchen,
tea shivers, bread petrifies.



Translated by Frank L. Vigoda