ISSUE: Fall 2011
Before sleep, I remove
every sentence I’ve heard
since dawn like a thermometer
from the day’s armpit
and vigorously shake the madness out …
But a huge lie boils in the mercury—
the voice’s quiet
makes me angry, and I have the desire
to peel away—like an egg—the mixed up words,
and forget that it requires such great talent
to quietly carry madness,
you can’t expect it from everyone.
—Translated from the Georgian by Timothy Kercher and Nene Giorgadze
