TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

Barbara Korun

40 days, 40 years. We got older, settled down in our grief, our hunger. Down here there is no God. In the safe haze, we wait for the bearded face of someone fulfilling God’s commands. I hear noise: Noah’s releasing the animals back to the land. I lean my face against a crack in the door and light pours all over me, the light I had forgotten. When my husband who has forgotten me, opens the door, into his chest filled with wind and sun a herd of animals will rush— a multi-tailed body with thousands of glittering eyes moving through every premonition. First—me. Translated by Barbara Siegl Carlson

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