thread your fingers through whole hinges

By ANNA GLAZOVA 

 

thread your fingers through whole hinges

if the opening is blocked if there is no new

no old moon in the window.

 

behind tight brackets

is the crack that one could either be reading by a table lamp

or have spilled a full glass;

had no time to drink and was sent for stones to wear

behind his back.

 

eyes hurt from his being so used to the dark

being that a stranger against the light

who has thrown his shadow over yours behind the back weighs more than the house.

 

if the hinges lock like a chain

you will have moved

the sheet and the glass

by a half-sound.

half a sound, that’s a whole night.

 

Translated by Anna Khasin

Anna Glazova was born in Russia and now teaches and resides in Hamburg, Germany, and the United States. She is the author of three books of poems, the most recent of which was honored with the Russian Prize for Poetry in 2013. A scholar and a translator of European literature, she has translated into Russian books by Paul Celan, Robert Walser, Unica Zürn, and Ladislav Klima. A volume of her poems, in English translation by Anna Khasin, was published as Twice Under the Sun.
 

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

thread your fingers through whole hinges

Related Posts

Portrait of Daniel Tobin in front of low trees

The Grave Fox

DANIEL TOBIN
No kindred of an earth, it must stalk alone, / or scavenge what the visitants leave behind. // or bird’s eggs, rabbits, the odd neighborhood / cat wandered over from some nearby home. / Its tail affects the lilt of a semaphore; its pelt // a finish of rust in sunlight.

Supermarketing

LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon? 

Red Cadillac interior.

Jesus’ Body Found Outside Ice Cream Parlor in Black Suburb 

STEFAN BINDLEY-TAYLOR
His left wrist dangled out the half-wound-down glass of a boxy brown Cadillac with red felt seats. Flies drifted in and out. He had a dip top cone in his hand. The place was famous for them. You’d think it would be melting in the heat, but the molten chocolate shell held