Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Ten poems

My father and my mother, and all my father’s And mother’s friends, and all my near and dear ones, And all my friends‒and there was no end To this list‒beyond the darkened grave Nodding and making signs to me, Unreadable at that distance‒ I was calling them by name in my sleep And in reality, when I woke to the dark. The nightlight was burning, quiet reigned, The clock did not hurry my guests, And for the first time death was not frightening. All of them were there, they’d made a home of it, They had filled it up with themselves, Its houses, flats, hallways, suites; There too I will not be a stranger, There too will be loved and made welcome.

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