I Breathe Out - V. a Shoelace or a Zipper

in the sky above you morning shatters into millions of colored shoelaces;
you could take this as a promise, as the eroticism of space
ablaze high above your head, it would be too much but

otherwise the textile light of the welding torch
would wrap in a package what remains mine
not including the workers by the tramline gesturing obscenely at the women riding

that, too, would be a poem or even
a morning
you’ll never see again
like a final explosion, thanks be to God,
all the objects we stuff with our intent of closeness

(translated from the Romanian by Adam J.
 Sorkin with the poet, Marco Polo Quarterly, Fall 2010 Issue #2)

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