ORGANS OF SENSE

sight

with my memory’s eyes

I thank you for all

that I can see

even with

eyes closed

even when you

block out the light

with your palm

the world a camera obscura

its concave mirror

reflecting

the little soul of a boy

barefoot and short-haired

and two oceans

full of heavens and clouds and eyes

of the same deep shade

hearing

you know it too

no silence

it does not exist

even in dreams

amid the most subtle vibrations

I always successfully

find

the pulse of pigeons’ wings

and the rustling of trees

on a certain chestnut street

the dance of nighttime moths

encircling the fixture

the crackling of a page

which

is turned

by trembling fingers

the sighs of lovers

perhaps from the house just across

the whispers of an unknown language

in the telephone membrane

and the arrhythmia of hearts that

always fall out of rhythm

when attempting to beat in time

Translated by Mark Andryczyk