Eva Gerlach

It walks with you like a child,
the image of what you see, form of the world
as it best fits inside you,

she says it comes into my head here
then bounces, bounces back and forth and where
it hits it stamps a mark for good

and she goes on washing herself in her
way, balancing
on tiptoe above the sink so she can
see herself in the mirror -

how she squeezes the washcloth over her forehead,
eyes closed, "how do I look when I'm sleeping,"
dries herself, stretches one leg, barely keeps standing.

2

Her toes in the wet sand are slightly
spread apart and curling
from the cold as you rub her dry.
Fraying seam that keeps attention un-
divided, you see toes, but not their imprints
next to them, filling up with water;
almost run away by the time you look.

3

Look, R. in pajamas, her hand
that petted the cat bandaged up,
tape around her ankle from her jump
off the sofa, I can fly, her tongue
still sore from singing Christmas carols while eating.
How she stands up and plays on her quarter violin
Redbreast taps against the window tick tick, her hair
tousled over her white part -

how in there like Russian dolls all kinds
of life and limb are tucked away, until her birth.

4

There she peeps around the door head dripping wet
full of new front teeth and she laughs because
she's won the bet, pajamas on
in just 2 minutes. Dances, jumps, ice cream tomorrow,
looks at me looking, her messy head down in my lap,

"quiet now turn out the light I want
to dream a dream that I made up in school."

5

There she goes on her roller skates, arms
rising as she gains speed, wind in her jacket,
down the street and back again.

She grabs my sleeve, puts one hand over her eye.
"Now you do it, too, see,
look at me then, your pupil gets bigger and bigger
because the other one grows in the dark, inside
they're attached to each other. Can you still see anything?"

Skates on, arms at her sides, bent slightly forward
so that she almost but not quite falls - as if the
falling were an arm that she ducks under.

I watch her go but what do you expect,
with that oversize pupil attached to what is not there.

6

She walks there in the rain through water
that till now was a road, jacket blowing,
ripples beside her feet, now and then she kicks
against the water and it glances off from her,
at times you see the sole of her boot.

Ankles in her socks chafed by the rope
that she invisibly keeps climbing, I watched how
they did it and I stood there on the knot
pulled myself up with my knees and my hands I almost
got to the ceiling they had the pole all ready
that you can swing from but time was up

Chance is what your eyes hold on to,
as when she walks to school through the rain the last
seal that you have to break
to see her just one time as she appears.

7

As I talk to her she isn't listening,
she lets go of the handlebars, claps twice
in quick succession, bikes on.

Sun ricochets off her uneven line
of teeth as she laughs, I can do it, did you
see me? Shall I do it once again?

Lets go of the handlebars, claps twice
In quick succession, bikes on.

Translated by Myra Scholz-Heerspink