Théâtre de l'Odéon by Emily Fragos

Théâtre de l'Odéon

I could not rise from the dark and go out into the cool,

night air of that beautiful city,

could not get on with my conniving, young life.

What had been smooth and good became impossible, slowly,

 

mechanically, placing one foot in front of the next, so that legs,

as if buried in snow, might inch along the river

 

and the alleys with the clochards and the cats,

and I might seem a bright young thing again.

 

And all this before the shock of loss, the dying, who linger

with their weak bodies and blank faces,

 

and my own stupid share of human harm

inflicted upon the innocent,

 

and long before Time, that asp,

started laughing, laughing at me.