Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying
Poem By Miroslav Kirin
Early in the morning a naked woman kneels on the kitchen floor praying.
The smoke from the heating plant rises steadily.
A soprano from Schnittke's madrigal interferes with the voice of the potato vendor coming from the street.
The chill descends to the root of a plant
on the balcony left in oblivion.
When the vendor leaves, I replay the madrigal and this time the woman's voice
seems unbearably lonely.
A moment ago she was with him, now he has left her.
As if she has lost the support of her own verticality, her voice broke down,
aimlessly departed somewhere horizontally, indifferently.
What was this naked woman praying for early in the morning?
Isn't her own verticality in the kitchen all that takes?