Windows to Europe

stuffed

one day, by the dumpster, i saw an abandoned stuffed bird
i saw it and forgot, but it didn’t forget me, it even began to stalk me –
wherever and whenever i would go, whomever i would meet, i saw the ragged bird
at first, i pretended not to see it
let it show itself, what do i care – it neither chirps nor pecks at me
but eventually, it grew rude – appearing not only in public places –
among students, listeners, pedestrians –
but showing up among friends, perching even on my loved ones’ heads
so i tried to make nice, asking – what are you doing here and what do you want?
but the stuffed thing just squatted there – silent
and my father, on whose head it eventually perched, only looked at me inquiringly
dad – i whispered – there’s a bird on your head!
but he just waived his hand, you know – big deal
from that time on, i began to see the stuffed creature in my dreams –
no escape – i hardly slept, i barely ate, i barely was –
and i would keep seeing it – always frozen in the same pose, mute, frayed,
though it began to seem to me that it was smiling – the stuffed bird was mocking me
so i finally snatched it up and threw it with all my strength at the wall, only, it turned out,
that wasn’t the wall, but a mirror.
that was the first time i saw a bird fly
in a mirror

[Source]
From: esu aptrupėjusios sienos
Vilnius: kitos knygos, 2016
ISBN: 978-609-427-246-2

omelet

i was planning to cook an omelet
i broke one egg
then another
and in the third i found a grimy boy
sitting there, parentless, alone
in a shopping mall
with a small box at his side
i looked around to see if anyone saw
then continued to prepare
breakfast
Translated from Lithuanian by Rimas Uzgiris

[Source]
From: Jūros nėra
Vilnius: kitos knygos, 2021
ISBN: 978-609-427-467-1

spring dissection

a lone man walks the park’s paths
he strides with ease
dissecting the body of spring
wanting to know why, and forgetting what for
veined hands, sunken cheeks
sometimes he knows what he wants, especially today
the metal he grips in his pocket is still cold
his shoes are made of finely worked leather
there is some cash and a few cards in his wallet
on one of them, he is smiling today
he walks on the lawn trimmed for the first time this year
the scent is so strong that even his tobacco-dulled nose can smell it
he wants to figure out the reason why spring dies
maybe even write a novel
he bends down and drives a knife into the ground with all his might
the cuts, drawing blood, are almost perfectly straight
he sticks his hand inside and searches, and searches
until he pulls out a small blue car
the same one that he once lost as a child
Translated from Lithuanian by Rimas Uzgiris

[Source]
From: esu aptrupėjusios sienos
Vilnius: kitos knygos, 2016
ISBN: 978-609-427-246-2