(Translation: Paul Vincent)
I lifted my old lovers into the bath, I wanted at a
glance the thing, the one I had
loved, most or less, perhaps or certainly, unconditionally
or in case/if. In a tub as long as a galleon
the synchronised
washing of each other’s back, each with a piece of soap
blue-veined, after which with shoulders
scrubbed open till they bled
they walked away. Except one, you, whom I
hooked myself behind, legs around trunk, to wait
together right through the other
for the unbearable cooling of the water.
