A Poem by Inga Ābele

what are you my beloved night pragmatist
darkness in rings
wine and an ancient harpsichord in the corner

snakes sleep in alcohol do you see
you said –
how profligacy sleeps
waiting for the kiss of awakening

there’s such a profession – to attract looks
and to spin away in the sparks of the furnace

Inga Ābele, Night pragmatist. Trans. Inara Cedrins