Like a river, abandoned in all haste
Harmless water, jet-black, without current,
without origin still, without boats or swans,
no catch in our fine-meshed square net. With a
bird’s eye view, simply a twisting line from a to b with
left and right reassuring symbols, open terrain,
soon we would be asleep. But we didn’t sleep,
the word ‘river’ hung stubbornly between us,
held us on course, we had no choice, the first
landing-stages, suddenly the centre of a town, a bike
against a tree, a hand stretched out from the quay to
someone who seemed to have woken floundering from
a nightmare somewhere deep down on the map and no
matter how you screamed, no wave brought us nearer.
