Saturday, 16 December 2017

Това отдалечено място/That distant place

It’s tipping down and I’m off to Rakovski,
with that newly learned joke in my head:
‘White wine, white wine – why aren’t you red?’

Beneath NDK, we’re doing our best
to keep up, to say what we can, to drink
from the right bottles – it’s Malta

he’s talking about, that distant place,
and we’re here, in our apartment,

and she’s taking on folded paper with shears.
Everything’s written. Here is the weather forecast.

Image: Marina Shiderova; text: Tom Phillips

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