Hard, Unmovable Body

When you are away
I move the bed closer to the wall
so your absence does not wake me.

I check, recheck
doors, children’s breathing, gather
the piles of our day
leave them on the floor.

In translation
Ana is lonely and Celan dying
but it does not matter,
books fall from the bed.

You will never return
unless of course you do, as promised.
Fear moves in my body

creeps to my bones like cold
and this knowledge of need,
the very need of you

straightens my back
against the wall till I sleep.