In the gap under the door light from the childhood.
What is important, happens, as always, in the adjacent room.
Furniture like sleepy, satiated animals, thickening curtains.
Adults sit at the table, older
than ever before. They talk so softly as if they were afraid
to wake up someone; their words sound unfamiliar.
In some one can recognise rain,
slamming doors, steps. There is no free chair
for death. She circles nearby and tries
to be useful: sorts the photographs, endearingly alters the names.




Translated by Izabela J. Bożek