The Invention of Death
Gregory Djanikian
Nothing was so mysterious
as your body coming to a close,
the winches(绞盘) of your arms and legs
You were lying under a white coverlet(被单,床罩)
as if under a field of snow.
Something was beginning to drift
like the sound of a train in the distance
under the color of sky.
It was difficult to think
that train is for you, not me
but it was almost easy too.
The birds outside the window
were breaking the glassiness of the morning,
You opened your eyes and asked
what I would remember of you
and I couldn't help but think this
you in a field of snow
and the train waiting by a platform
and the invention of death
twittering outside with feathers.
If language hadn't failed me then
and I remembered speaking.
If silence hadn't entered and sat down
like a fat dark uncle on your bed
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