From Stone
I pushed him deeper into the slope.
The water was sweet and
tepid. For centuries the winch
hasn't worked.
Sing-alongs go to dust.
Scent is powder.
Algae, handled, harnessed
first into waves,
the into shudder. Shudder, shudder,
shudder on the shore. On the
shore by the boat. When the
drum, the ring around the
the cosmos, melts. We're inside a small house.
There's a fingerbreadth of the Lord.
__________________
Tomaz Salamun
Andes
translated by Jeffrey Young and
Katarina Vladimirov Young
Black Ocean Press
