August
at night the pear bulbs illuminate
august's final meters a porno plays
in someone's window, in a black living room
grasshoppers chirp, the spectators giggle,
the credits roll by unread
someone whispers emphatically in my ear: get rid of
all useless sounds like laments
about what happens to us in the end,
'cause it's not time yet, there's suspense and so on,
for it's geature-length and you can, by living
slowly and frugally, dry pears for winter,
darn stiff autumn shrouds of conversation with voices,
go for a strol together around the empty park,
fingering the hole in your pocket,
which, in the end, we both fall out of
____________________
Halyna Kruk
Lost in Living
Lost Horse Press, 2024
translated by Ali Kinsella/Dzvinia Orlowsky
