Poetry at Sangam



by Ulrike Almut Sandig

can you still see me? you won’t
recognize me. already we are almost
not there. were you the one who looked right
through me? try again, hard as you can, look closely:
we were
never that pale.
my hand rests on your back which is already lonely
this photo of us, it’s developing backwards:
we’re losing our focus, we’re falling apart,
we’re floating on white paper.