STILL LIFE Poem by Gerrit Kouwenaar

Got up early one winter, heaven, how frankly
neighborly and ugly this birth is, skin
between inside and out, froth between yester
and later, one shaves up one's father

making tea the glass escapes one, sipping
embitters the sugar, one does shower, boils egg
poses for the daylight, still life with eater

now, evening, one's hidden the shards, luck
not to be lasted out, pencil deaf as a dummy, even
the ink needs writing over, sluggish the grumbling haste
of what one made when living -