all codes lead to roam

Birth of an Angel
by Barbara Korun



I gave birth out of a swelling on my breast, my third breast,
long hidden under scarves and shawls. It hurt as it came. He
helped me with his broad hands, he who husks out the shape
of souls. I saw a small being, the size of a fist, covered all over
with down, white and sticky. First you must let it dry, he said,
warming the creature between his big fingers. I could see as it
dried that this tiny being was wrapped in wings much bigger
than itself. It didn’t live, it couldn’t, it didn’t want to live. Apparition,
sea-foam, it melted in our hands.


translated by Theo Dorgan