“The Wars of the Dark Troll”

When the shadows leave, you will remain

in the memory of a small, fragile body.

In that memory — pus,

and roads scratched with pale white chalk.

Dust lies on the pupils and the bone-thin wrists.

The laws of death do not retreat.

Sharp ribs in unpunished bodies

are pressed down by the weight of thought.

In dusty palaces, no hands are bound,

and no eyes are held by force.

To live by hearts, to live by others

will not seem strange in the end.

To live in another’s body, another’s soul

is heavy and useless work.

And I understand:

to live in your body

means spending a whole life in laughter.