That there (after Yannis Ritsos)
in front of a shop window, she looks
like a deflection. Completely naked now, save
the silver about her face, her shoes, her face
in the window. It is to other faces
I can't remember or remember faintly
outlined in silver, pale orange. A slip of light
across her nose, her breasts and knees,
and in her hands, folded, the white pants
she has removed. It matters.
I realize I do not know
what to do. The street turns over
like a bucket of fish. My friend lets out
this sound, sounding from the ceiling
of his mouth, very light.
|
|
|
