Christine Famula
traduction du poème de Patrice Desbiens.)

I remember a station wagon cutting through the night
opening up the northern night like a hunting knife
opening up its prey
We are all there
my mother my sister her husband her kids all of us in
that car
Johnny B. Good Leblanc at the wheel his face dimly
lit by the glow of the dash
I am the only passenger who isn't asleep while
we continue along a bruised green ocean
to each side
My sister is sleeping at the front
darkness seeping in and out of her gaping mouth
The night is long without a crease
The night is long without a crease
The night is long without a crease
The night is long without Suddenly
the fabric tears something moves
there and
the windshield a picture screen the glare
Twentieth Century Fox and Gulf Western headlights on
an animal the animal the moose in the middle of the road
motionless facing
its destiny hurtling towards it 60 miles an hour
Its eyes its eyes its eyes oh god staring 'til
the end the muffled thud of metal meeting
flesh
My sister waking her scream loud and
wild and
final as if the soul of the animal is passing through
her as it
dies and at last
the silence
the silence of our silence in
the silence between
Timmins and Toronto.

Home / Page d'accueil