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Agnieszka Wolny-Hamkalo



I’ve fed the dog.
A draught cut short this tenderness.
Tea and apples vanish from the porch.
The sun pulls back, drops, and people
must salute each other more distinctly.

Those tied to the house are gone
to inhale leaves. They’ll be hungry.
I watch over the fire as it darts in circles.

Motion in the yard:
shadows cut flush
mesh for a moment

Translated by Tadeusz Pióro.

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