Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin

IN THE DARK ROOM

218 ʸʲʮʩʶ ʯʬʲʷʰʥʨ ʯʩʠ ʨʰʩʤ ʩʣ ʩʥʥ ʪˋʥʥ ʯʫˋʦ ʯʲʩʩʨʹ ʸʲʮʩʶ ʯʬʲʷʰʥʨ ʯʩʠ . ʣʬˋʥʥ ʯʥ˦ ʬ˝ˋʶ ʭʲʣ ʸʲʣʩʥʥ ʯʸʲʤ , ʨʰʩʥʥ ʯʩʠ ʷˋʤ ʩʣ , ʨʰʲʥʥ ʯʹʩʥʥʶ ʨʷʩʨʹʸˋ˦ ʨʸˌʥʥ ˋ , ʣʰʩʷ ˋ ʯʥ˦ ʵ˦ʩʦ ʭʲʣ . ʯʸʲʨʮˋʬ ʸʲʣ ʨʬʩ˝ʹ ʯʣˋʬˋʡ ʲʷʑ ʩʥʸʮʥʠ - ʬˋʸʨʹ ʨʱʰˌʮ ʯʶʸˋʥʥʹ ʯ˦ʩʥʠ ʬˋʩˌʸ ʭʲʣ ʸʲ . ʵʬˌʤ ʱˌʣ ʨʮʥʸʡ ʱʲ . ʨʮʩʥʥʹ ʯʥʠ ʸʲʢʰʩ˦ ˋ ʨʬʨ‫ٷ‬ʨ ʱʲ ʬʢʩʬ˦ ʱʢʰˋʤʸˌ˦ ʯʸʲʡʩʠ ʬʢʩ˝ʹ ʯʩʠ ʪʩʦ ʨʢʩʩʡʸˋ˦ ʯʥʠ . ʷʩʣʤʰˤʬ ʯʲʬʷʰʩʥʥ ʩʣ ʯʥ˦ ʨʮʩʥʥʹ ʸʲʩʥʸʨ ʯʥʠ - ʣʰʩʬʡ , ʨʰʹʷʲʸˋ˦ ʪʩʦ ʳʩʥʸˋ ʨʩʶ , ʨʷʰʲʡʸˋ˦ , ʨʰʩ˝ʹʸˋ˦ ʨʰʩʶˋʩʤ ʯʸʲʥʥʹ ˋ ʯʩʠ . ʢʰˋʤʸˌ˦ ʯ˦ʩʥʠ ʨʰˋʤ ˋ . ʯ‫ʹٷ‬ ʯʩʠ ʯʨˌʹ ˋ . ʯ‫ٷ‬ʸˋ ʨʮʥʷ ʩʥʸ˦ ʲʬʲʬʰʥʨ ʩʣ . ʯ‫ٷ‬ʠ ʩʦ ʨʢʰʩʬʹ ʬʲʨˌ˦ ʭʲʣ , ʨʣʰʩʥʥʹʸˋ˦ ʩʦ . ʨʰʩʶˋʩʤ ʯʷʩʸʲʩʥʸʨ ʯʱʩʥʸʢ ʯʸˋ˦ ʲʦˋʥʥ ˋ ʦʩʥʬʡ ʦʩʠ ʩʦ . 219 IN THE DARK ROOM In the dark room objects stand watch like hounds. Hear again the quiver of the forest, the chop of the wind, a word repressed between walls, the sigh of a child. The beam of the lamp plays restless ballads on the monstrous black grand piano. The wood hums. A finger points and floats over the curtain’s wings, and bends toward the mirror. Sorrow wafts from the corners, moon-blind, draws itself up stubbornly, yearningly, spinning into a heady hyacinth. A hand on the curtain. A shadow in the light. The dark woman enters. The armchair swallows her up, she disappears. She is only a vase for the great, sad hyacinth. ...