Forget dogs, cats, birds,
especially fishes,
the vile Minotaur, remember him from the myth,
that Theseus slayed.
I’ll show you a fluffier animal
that I’ve been taming for a long time
and don’t leave alone for a minute.
I’ve accompanied it since we met at midday.
When did I see it for the first time?
Do I remember?
I know the exact moment,
summer, midday,
a small hill in the forest,
we’re kissing each other with closed eyes.
I open my eyes
I’m looking into your closed eyes
and that’s the second when death clings to me
and I can’t erase it from this poem.
I left as usual, said goodbye to you, hugged you
kissed your temples
came home
turned the key.
If it had sneaked in
it would be more understandable.
I could have thrown it out.
Instead, I picked it up in my arms,
brought it in carefully,
offered it the dog’s cushion,
an armchair,
and at once it occupied
the medicine cabinet.
I’ve no idea how to take care of it,
what to feed it so that it won’t die,
where I can find a guide book,
how many poems I should read it,
how many evil fairy tales.
‘Sleep’ I tell it
‘I am tired, sleep’.
I cover its wide open eyes
with my hands,
it rejected the dog’s basket
and the child’s bed too,
it crawled under my blanket,
clung to me, it licks my knees,
eats rice boiled without salt,
drinks only cold milk
(my tears are too salty, it rejects them).
Occasionally at night
it rocks the moon near my bed
then howls from the balcony,
summons other deaths
like itself. It took all the iron from my blood
and planted goliath-sized quantities of it
in the Field of Mars cemetery.
When I leave the house
I’m eager to get back to it,
what can I do, I got used to it,
I can’t bear to be without it for long.
Nothing else, it doesn’t need a vet or vaccine
or walking. It doesn’t want to get used to where it is or move.
Occasionally it scratches or bites me slightly.
And then what?
Nothing special,
never mind,
in my opinion
I will survive.
