Gleb Shulpyakov

“man is made of what he eats and drinks”

man is made of what he eats and drinks,
breathes in, puts on over the years
—and like everyone else, I read the book from the end;
a sunken boat carried off to a braided river,
frozen sheets rising from frost in the house,
and these people now sitting with me at the same table;
in the beginning, transparent darkness and dense speech—
you open a page only to find it’s blank