AT HOME WITH YOU Poem by Stefan Hertmans

It doesn't tick like the clock
but it comes like rain,
sweeping over the keys
which answer you back.

A light hailstorm, sharp
as nails, chimes in
from time to time.

Patience, as you pick up speed,
a swifter rhythm
that calms the heart

and everything - trees grow
through the window, the net curtains
breathing like a beast -
becomes a part of it:

your hands swift as Sept-
ember clouds, tapping
on a black keyboard.