he would grow out of that kiss
these sealed lips won't let him go
the pain to touch to get used to her chill
to lick the ice from her
to slip under the eyelids
behind the last thing she saw
as he falls among the tendrils
he parts the earth from the sky ─
tiny footprints in the snow on her face
worms in a plank
embryo in a grape
in the glinting hoarfrost garden
with a dead woman in the same body
in the slippery turning leaves
in this sweet smelling breath
in this false-bottomed pit
he has it all
all he is good for
cold ─ his beard is grown
itchy ─ he's scratched
hungry ─ he's fed
something gets under his skin ─ he's stuffed

translated by Jeffrey Langlois