Ant

Three flights of stairs and years of despair
He shook the hair off the collar of her coat
The fur shimmered in the dark her mouth
let out through watery lips
That gasp of air he couldn't bear
So he slid in the midst of previous angers
Hit the beast and fed the least
Ferocious cry of repair
A joke a joke a joke my love
She had gone, built miles of roads
With turns to escape. No dead
end. Stars and waves into the unknown
land of flesh and ashes away
It's just an apple a day

Vija Celmins - December 1984