Glass.

Deksnys, Vytautas

Glass

 My beloved does not sleep--she knits
 Through seven cities beyond the forests she
 Moves speaks different languages when
 She buys food or wine reads
 Sweeps sleeps makes love with one she loves
 Makes love with one she does not love hands over the
 key
 Goes home lies bathes
 Tells how it is lies. I know
 A few languages everything else is a secret to me.
 Moves through the forest of eyelets while my
 Ear is near the disconnected shell and the ocean
 Is not a wire through which I'd talk
 Is not a wire that adds its own
 Word is not a wire that snorts
 Like a lightning bolt to its purpose. In the glass
 Room my lover knits the glass
 Night is all around with glass sticks
 We are eaten with glass sticks
 I will write about her knitting