Drulovka

Tomaž Šalamun

Translated From Slovenian by Matthew moore

The ostrich rocks the boat. He cuts
the ribbon. You unglue from

the roof, span after span. In the
clearing, where we camped.

Where I wanted to spend my youth
with my family. The scull

sank in the grass. What would you
put on a bicycle, if you could

ride a bicycle here? The vault
of your soul? Your menagerie?

Traces of moss? Look through
the human head. She is not the

only one who has a groove. It trickles
out of heaven. You donated your eyes.