Point of Impact Poem by Peter Zilahy

the lights of the awakening city
he watches the arm swinging the blow
finds him as if he was yanking open curtains
no speech no cry he mutely falls
unbuttons his jacket to feel the cold
to throw himself on the solid marble air
as if flattened by the space holding up his chest
pressing him into the low grimy clouds
he doesn't reach the ground he swims forward
as if his fingers had grown webbed
elbowing his way through the gaping crowd
thudding dully into the dust no word no anger no blood
he doesn't speak he doesn't bleed just rips open
he lies between legs hot and grey
watches the body that took the place
of the body turns away disappears in the crowd
so they won't know what he is thinking from there
every morning he stops in front of that house
staring up high watching how far he would drop
he falls mutely on the stone

translated by Jeffrey Langlois