Days vanish in a homeless life…
You don’t know where
Which corner of what street
Your body will come to rest
When it gets dark
With clouds above
And drops of water drip
From your unruly hair
Along with your tears
Days vanish in a homeless life…
You don’t know where next morning
You will open your fever-jaundiced eyes
(Once…a myriad torrid glances
spinned discreetly in your eyes…)
On the noisy old mattress
Or at the edges of the deaf sofa’s
Puncture-humped back…
You no longer look like the one
Who in the mists of the past
Was buried as a pillar of salt
No
You don’t look like yourself
Who had a roof over her head
A bed – clean sheets –
Where she vanished after anguish
And wove dreams
Up the lampshade’s midriff
And with the same feminine scent
Welcomed the sun…
Now you are not even female…
You are homeless
Homeless
Which is not even any kind of human…
Seta Krikorian
translated by Tatul Sonentz
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