Virgil does the rounds
there is a rabid horse in this flat – winks
a sign in the hallway. here, close to the
coat stand, hang the bodies of past brothers.
what the fuck does that mean, bodies of past
brothers, seeing as they still dangle, as full of life
as banners at any country fair, seeing as they still
dangle and whisper poems over their shoulders,
along with fairytales, experiences, verses from the top
floor. here, by the coat stand, the end
greets the beginning. beginning with a festival
of cadavers, and so say goodbye to the hope
that you'll grow out of a home which drowns you so.
© translated by Marek Kazmierski