Ships

I’m religious. As religious as the wind or scissors. It’s an ant, she’s religious, the flowers are red. I don’t want to die. I don’t care if I die now. I’m more religious than the dust in the desert. The mouth of a child is round. My eyes are syrup, dripping cold. Sometimes I think I baked nettles, but I didn’t. Sometimes I think I’m miserable, but I’m not. I’m religious. I will throw a barrel into the river. If bees rushed into my face, I’d scratch at them with my hand and would see again. I don’t get upset. The soul presses like the crowds at the door. When I die, oxen will graze the grass just like this. Houses will glimmer just like this. Translated from the Slovenian