Flacon
The morning of your birthday
I went to the perfumery around the
corner
to get you that flacon.
The girl in a sleeveless dress
asked sleepily how she could help,
then led me between
the scent of woodbine and lavender.
In the bright light I saw
her velvety calves,
the play of back muscles under the
skin.
She had a soft voice,
and her lips held the promise
of nine suns.
After I paid, she gave me the change,
gently grazing her nails
on my hand and wrist.
I will love you always.
Translated by Piotr Florczyk