**** (‘Opening an eye…’)

Opening an eye is already just the sign
my veins are readied to become rails 
And the things to be dealt with
stand beyond the hazard-warning line of the spine 
on the platform of cold shoulder blades.
After that
the new day also rattles loudly into the body 
like an ageing skeletal train      
arriving at the next station  
and this panicky wakening   
makes all of these collide:
how they are, those who I love,
how the weather has shifted the colours of the city, 
surely everyone has returned home
those who were waited for all night long 
and also those who no one looks for 
surely they also managed to wake up
surely all the bread ovens have heated up
and all the dough has risen
surely I have my heart ready again 
to carry through one more new day
like a sleeping new-born baby 
into the distant din of the blacksmiths and I grasp
that you either must know precisely    
how to recount what lies behind the model life stories 
or you must know precisely 
how to keep quiet.