THE EXILE DIARIES

13th of December
Ball forever between
two kicks
and I see myself played,
the only spectator,
punished not to be sad.
People work as long as they endure;
they endure more than they can.
We’ll carry rocks
we’ll chop wood
we’ll clean the washrooms.
I too.
I’d like to look outside
where things aren’t that hard:
aluminum cups, stools, casseroles,
the plate rack with clean plates every morning,
the opposite window
a square, soft light, orange color
that you can’t fold; it spreads.

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