First prize
Alyssa Gillespie
(excerpts)
A rusty tin sky, and the jutting
Pillar’s thumb.
He at the place appointed
Stood like doom.
“Quarter-to-six. I’m punctual?”
“Death won’t wait.”
Exaggeratedly graceful—
Swept his hat.
In every eyelash—a challenge.
Stony mouth.
Exaggeratedly fluent—
Was his bow.
“Quarter-to-six. Exactly?”
Voice forsworn.
Sinking heart: what is happening?
Brain: alarm!
----------
Sky of pernicious omens:
Rust and tin.
He at the same place as always.
Time is six.
Kisses without any echo:
Stuporous lips.
Thus—kiss the palms of an empress,
Corpses—thus…
Commoners passing, whirling—
Elbows gouge.
Exaggeratedly weary
A whistle howled.
Lingering, howled like an angry
Shrilling hound.
(Exaggeration of life this
Fatal hour.)
That which before was waist-high,
Reached the stars.
(Exaggeratedly, meaning:
Heights apart.)
In my thoughts: dearest, dearest.
“Seven soon.
Off to the movies, or else…?”
Outburst: “Home!”
[...]
14
The sheep path suborns us—
Descent. City roar.
Three whores ambling toward us.
They laugh. At your tears
They laugh—rumbling bosom
Of noon, cresting waves!
They laugh!
—at your clumsy,
Disgraceful, dismayed
Male tears, spied distinctly
Through rainfall—two scars!
Outrageous as trinkets
On soldierly bronze.
At your tears, your first ever,
And final—flow on!—
O, tears that are gemstones
And pearls in my crown!
I won’t look away. Through
The downpour—I gaze.
You whores, dolls of Venus,
Keep ogling! Our ties
Are closer than heedlessly
Lust and then leap.
The Song of Songs even
Has ceded its speech
To us, subtle songbirds,
And Solomon leans
Toward us—since our double
Lament’s—more than dream!
----------
And into the hollows
Of haze—hunched and cowed—
He drifts—traceless—soundless—
A ship going down.
Prague, 1 February – Ilovisci, 8 June 1924
Translated by Allyssa Gillespie
The entry may be further revised by the translator.
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