Glade

by Kristín Eiriksdóttir

I lay there looking into her face
felt her warmth
her breath in time with mine,
followed her gaze.

She was looking at a bust of Lenin next to a fern.
I know she didn’t see Lenin.
I followed her gaze,
through the bust of Lenin,
past the fern.

In the glade is a scene
from a Tarkovsky movie
shot in Siberia,
except in the distance, there’s a wild peacock,
its head in the air
fanning out its feathers.

The women
veiled mothers and daughters
don’t notice anything,
never see one another,
their gazes turned inward,
back toward the glade.

Translated by Larissa Kyzer.