Alphabet

Ten million years
from the Miocene
to the primary school in Je?ná Street.

We know everything
from a to z.

But sometimes the finger stops
in that empty space between a and b,
empty as the prairie at night,

between g and h,
deep as the eyes of the sea,

between m and n,
long as man’s birth,

sometimes it stops
in the galactic cold
after the letter z,
at the beginning and the end,

trembling a little
like some strange bird.

Not from despair.

Just like that.