Ernestas Noreika

for a long time I looked up at the sky

at the airplane trails thrown across

which appeared like a sign

left on purpose

they were tied together

they made a big “ex”

as though someone had marked

on the blue canvas with a white marker

the place to make an incision

to open an aperture across

so I could discover what lurks on the other side

of the glittering screen

the other side of the flapping canvas

painted with moving canoes of clouds

in which floats an old man

pushing away from the bottom

with beams of sun

I had the thought -- we are like the sky

when we look at one other

with the same eyes we look at the sky

we see the marked places

where we should cut

to find out

what lurks behind

but we cannot resolve to do it

hold the knife

with shaking hands

we are afraid to cut too deep

we are afraid to harm

the animals living

on the other side