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Gedicht

Michelle O\'Sullivan

The Crossing Place

The Crossing Place

The Crossing Place

He emerges among countless others from
a cramped compartment of an evening train
at just the same time that a downdraft has come
to search the platform and the exited passengers.

He hasn’t a free hand to rub at his eyes so he turns
his head down and walks against something that
might otherwise harm; what use is there to say
what he would have done when young?

Only lightly alive he makes his way toward lesser lit
parks and streets and for this one split second he out-
beautifies those he walks among; he doesn’t quicken
or slow and the downdraft doesn’t know how to follow.

Michelle O\'Sullivan

Michelle O\'Sullivan

(Verenigde Staten, 1972)

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The Crossing Place

He emerges among countless others from
a cramped compartment of an evening train
at just the same time that a downdraft has come
to search the platform and the exited passengers.

He hasn’t a free hand to rub at his eyes so he turns
his head down and walks against something that
might otherwise harm; what use is there to say
what he would have done when young?

Only lightly alive he makes his way toward lesser lit
parks and streets and for this one split second he out-
beautifies those he walks among; he doesn’t quicken
or slow and the downdraft doesn’t know how to follow.

The Crossing Place

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère