MUSEOLOGICAL

by Yannick Dangre


MUSEOLOGICAL

Your body of grass. Your spirit of silver. And I

forget again how you hid my age

in the attic, among the sleeping dogs, feel only

how your muscles swell like accomplices in my bed.


 

Each time I wipe the melancholy from my forehead,

you bring my future back into circulation,

you lay your most naked facts on my skin.


 

And I bite you, make love to you, stroke with all your fingers

my loss of memory. I know: you’re gone

and present like a myth, and yet you’ll remain forever

my doctrine, my burning doll, my silence

in a mysterious attic.


 

Your body of grass. Your spirit of silver. Forget

the museum value of our love.

From Night and Navel (2017); translated by Paul Vincent