corrugated roofs mossy roofs with bleaching laundry sheets and wet pegs dancing in wind a human hand or head nowhere to be seen but there are stainless steel chimney-pots orange-red tiles with something black rain discarded running top to bottom doors open curtains shut the clean washing hanging out and branches grow grabbing for something to unsettle stone walls within which he's thinking swimming pools leering at bathing suits and drinking after coffee swimming pools peeping over the tops of locker rooms ghetto blasters sounded like concrete four-lane highways boys' voices driving under them he can hear it but she pulls at what he keeps behind his teeth-grate and makes his lame tongue run back to the town where toss-n-turn-nights-long he lies awake thirsting
knife in the belly of a hungry god
Translation by Willem Groenewegen