AJAX (Excerpt)

Even at the hour of lovemaking, at night, in bed, you

suddenly remember the cloths-pegs left in the yard that

will rot in the dampness. Foolish women you send us

away from your bed, the house, the world, away from

your practical, wise mind, used to cook recipes, bake

sweets, mix medical potions, away from life with

the little, holy, daily events, with the certain objects

that relax all the unreachable great.

No one has ever asked me where my eyes are fixated,

where my mind goes, to which horrors, injustices

I’ve seen, which hatred I’ve faced (being fearless)

or whether I have a toothache or headache, as if

I don’t have head nor teeth, but a stone or plain wind

for a head. Why are you looking at me like that? Close

the doors, shut the windows, seal the gate and that black

fly, here it is, it sharpens its nails on the horn of the bull.

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