A VERY LITTLE WAR
For years we’ve lived in this marriage,
amid these slamming doors and tenderness
in the evening by the fireside of our thoughts
of wanting to be somewhere else, everywhere
and always someone other than ourselves,
who push each other ever deeper, head in
the sand of years lived too joyfully.
When we meet now we conjure from silence
this house, this furniture, all the silences
with which we have constructed ourselves
in front of the television, in bed and bath
and copulation more and more soundless,
in which we scratched and bit each time
into all that must be bit back:
our skin and our present dates.
And yet, from the sofa again
and again we look back into each other
and see the steadfast weariness
of two veterans, still make on the floor
of our house that has stopped burning
a very little war and peace.
From Girl I Still Like (2011); translated by Paul Vincent