Kindness

We’ll return dressed in different clothes, having different

eyes and grey hair. We’ll look at the serene harbour,

the ropes, the masts, the shepherds’ star. We’ll talk as if

to console someone who is far away, someone who is

foreign to us as we see the fish wriggling in the net.

We’ll talk about the rosy reflections of the fish. With our hands

we’ll mimic its movements, nice movements, as we’ll talk

hastily, then silently, we’ll avoid looking at the broken oar

pushed in the sand, among the bones of Homeric horses

and the warped shoes of women.

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