by Runa Svetlikova


Each moment is possibly the moment in which we reach

the ultimate border, where we don’t drift further apart but implode

in total silence in space and time – the big rewind.


Skyscrapers no longer soar but are unbuilt brick by brick

by dilapidated cranes highways become dirt roads

become muddy paths no longer appear to exist


the voice box that descends mid-sentence word becomes a growl

the gaping jaw the disconcerting recourse to four limbs

on their way to work, a double speed rewind where fur and feather


devolve into scales, the earth cools down, heats up, gigantic insects

settle on obscenely disproportionate flowers volcanoes unerupt

continents rush towards each other. There are no witnesses


to this shameful retreat to the primordial soup: procreation

proves to be no more than a unilateral division into the past

planets and stars are simply scattered mass

we all fall back into the very same bang. There is only beginning –

Translated by Willem Groenewegen