Floarea Ţuţuianu

My Dog the Soul

Hand over my heart I pledge the oath
(under my tongue the word fermenting in saliva—solitary under the mouth’s sky)

In my ear life whispers the salt sea
Green and dry are the words from which I hang
upside-down

I see from far off how I blanch white then closer ever closer

Immeasurable the goodness according to which Emmanuel weighs heavy on
my dog—the soul

The white glare of the word will reflect all colors
until the last glint

I had no choice. I was chosen.

Not my body, not my soul, but my sex at the word’s heart
my strong point

 

translated from Romanian by
Adam J. Sorkin and Irma Giannetti

 

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