Treasure Island

Joseph Brodsky

(24 May 1940 – 28 January 1996 / Leningrad)

Dutch Mistress


A hotel in whose ledgers departures are more prominent than arrivals.
With wet Koh-i-noors the October rain
strokes what's left of the naked brain.
In this country laid flat for the sake of rivers,
beer smells of Germany and the seaguls are
in the air like a page's soiled corners.
Morning enters the premises with a coroner's
punctuality, puts its ear
to the ribs of a cold radiator, detects sub-zero:
the afterlife has to start somewhere.
Correspondingly, the angelic curls
grow more blond, the skin gains its distant, lordly
white, while the bedding already coils
desperately in the basement laundry.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004

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  • James Frederick (11/11/2008 2:42:00 PM)

    'Morning enters the premises with a coroner's
    punctuality, puts its ear
    to the ribs of a cold radiator, detects sub-zero:
    the afterlife has to start somewhere.'

    What a harsh way to imagine a day beginning (beginning with the end) . Sometimes it is true. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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