The word end
At all ends
And places
So you
Become more and more
An archive.
The word end,
The word unready,
An incision that requires
Trust.
Without a trace,
Like drowning
In a vanishing sentence
During
Silent lovemaking.
The end of a poem.
Not a place,
Indefinability,
A body,
Not mine
Not yours,
The body of a remnant.
It pierces us
Like a needle,
Like the word needle.
It sewed nothing,
Unstitched nothing.
The word pricks,
The body moans,
Extends a tongue,
Though nothing
Happens,
Everything
Has once again
Concluded.
From an end
Two hands
Grow.
A body,
Everywhere
Open
On all sides
Of a place
That only
Can be
Ignored,
A name
That is missing,
And has abolished
Every beginning.
Translated by Brian Henry