Beings and Things On Their Own

Beings, when we leave them on their own, what are they like? What do they do when we stop fingering them, tickling them, biting them? When they are alone intheir lather or in the mud of night?

Things, when we don't shove them between our legs, when we don't open them, don't close them, don't wear them and wait, don't take them off and wait, when we don't plan a weekend, a stroll, a vision, a show; when the snow remains untrodden by the beloved dog, the flowerpots in the forever-closed windows of our souls, what are they like? What is the world like when we are not there?

Translated from the Greek by Katerina Anghelaki-Rooke and Jackie Willcox