by Yannick Dangre


Now, afterwards, time hangs still

on our lips and we lie

with wide-open bodies and wonder

how to preserve each other. You, who put

your youth back on like socks, think in lists:


Always breakfast together.

Be ahead of him.

Frame his softest wrinkles.

Copy the wisdom from his face.


I just smile, check off the distant vistas

in your voice. You, my love, don’t need yet to know

that love is a mountaineer

on a sheer window, and that every failing

one day falls out of the china shop.


Tenderly I stroke your mouth that sums me up,

Becomes a warm, unforgettable anecdote.


Time keeps tying knots in our bodies.

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