she lies there in the living room
on that sofa,
her body swells, and her husband says
she is another hopeless case
in whispers seeing to it that she does not hear any word
about
being hopeless, but i think she knows it, she is not dumb after all
that all these are obvious enough
her body does not feel anything now
her eyes speak a lot
but her mouth does not release a word
her tongue coils inside her cheek
the room is filled with the smell of death
urine, fecal matter,
i say a prayer for her repose.
the images of a woman playing tennis during saturday mornings
in sneakers, drinking wine with her husband at the veranda
a lawyer fed up with life's drama
their children have lives of their own
and soon
he will be facing life all alone
when she finally closes her eyes
to see another world
before her
closed eyes
saturdays will never be the same again
but he is strong, he will always be strong
he will have another defense... it is too painful an image to see
and so i shifted my gaze
to the durian tree
lush leaves, strong branches, and
fruitless
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem