Man Fixing the Attic

by Ma Yongbo

The man fixing the attic form a oblique angle with the sky
The whole afternoon, his colony has expanded a little
Crimson slope roof is waving behind him
This attic, consecrate a giant one–eyed shrine
One boundary define both the house and sky
Limited capacity, it is conversation between
Limitation and the limitless, memos of the house
Inherited dust, wood cloth hangers
You can only weep and nap inside
Retreat temporally from OCD in life
Toys of childhood cracking,
Pale flower pot, bright, empty sleeves
He is trying again and again the shadow
Listen again and again to a rain or snow that has long stopped
Gazing at the stiff tree gathering water under its feet
He can’t bear living here, he can’t endure
Himself in the old photo album escaping through the roof
As the most proportional design of
human imagination and body, the attic
Try all might to stick its head from the dark waves
in the evening, the man fixing the attic stop working, smoking
His still shadow enlarged, expanding towards the horizon