THE BIG REWIND
There are no witnesses to the retreat to yesteryear, the ascent of
14 times 13 steps, the right hand on a banister that she
slid off long ago, a little suitcase in the left. No-one
to see how callous, liver spot and wrinkle disappear. In the house
that was taken from her no-one ever lived what she lost never
existed. Muscles grow stronger hair regains its colour drooping breasts
dissolve in baby fat a child that died was not begot. She stares
over the edge at the traffic and all who inexplicably continue
focuses on falling. She cautiously looks left then right and left
again, goes into the street with the suitcase. Each moment is possibly
the moment in which she reaches the shortest possible distance to the ground
implodes in space and time. Each moment is possibly the moment
in which it’s tomorrow, an alarm rings. Someone has escaped the fall.
Someone yawns, rubs their eyes and gets up.
Translated by Willem Groenewegen