the atrocity of sunsets
x
“April and Silence” by Tomas Tranströmer

Spring lies abandoned.
A ditch the color of dark violet
moves alongside me
not reflecting anything.

All that shines
are yellow flowers.

I am carried inside
my own shadow like a violin
in its black case.

All I want to say
gleams out of reach
like the family silver
in a pawnshop.