Inside the Display Fridge it's Always Daytime - Valerina Tentoni

The things in there don’t complain, don’t ask any god

to turn out the light. They wait their turn.

Some are past their use-by, but stay there all the same.

I’d like to be the Coca-Cola bottle

that I fill with water from the tap. Something that accepts its lot

without a fuss.

I live above a Chinese supermarket.

The other day I hung trousers from the window

and the wind carried them off. I had to go downstairs, had to ask permission.

They let me into the storeroom: it was like arriving

at the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

For a long time I thought the noise was from the bakery

half-way down the street. Turns out it’s not,

it’s from the Chinese place.

There’s a huge motor they use to ventilate their goods.

The things in there don’t complain, don’t ask any god for quiet.

Everything that shines is a satellite of some faint star.

Some day the star will expire

before its rays

and we’ll plummet into a foolish faith.

If there weren’t sadder things,

that would be a sad thing.

---

Valerina Tentoni (born 1985) Argentina

Translated by Elizabeth Bryer

Source: The Lifted Brow

From Antitierra (Libros del Pez Espiral, Santiago de Chile, 2014)

This poem was published in The Lifted Brow #36