in memory of a book
books die
out of dark bedrooms
where the only road
paved by a yellow lamp
led to their pages
they are stuffed in every corner of a house
thus turning it into a huge book cemetery
those whose names do not ring any bell
are taken to the attic
where they lay — twenty books in one box —
a mass grave
books become windows
in empty apartments
nobody’s heart beats above them
no one shares with them a dinner
or drops them into a bathtub
nobody watches them
lose their pages
like hair
like memory
books age alone
and the most sensitive book
stays forever
in a cold bed
covering its head with a pillow
suppressing the scream of its black letters
old books
neglected graves
Millbrook, April 2006
from Factory of TearsFind it in the library
Copyright © 2008 Valzhyna Mort (Trans. Elizabeth Oehlkers Wright and Franz Wright)
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.