Karin Montin
traduction du poème de Patrice Desbiens.)

I remember a station wagon cutting through the night
slicing open the northern night like a hunting knife
opening up its prey
All of us are there
my mother my sister her husband and her children all
in the car with
Johnny B. Good Leblanc at the wheel his face vaguely
illuminated by the glow of the dashboard
I'm the only one not sleeping as
we continue through a sea of bruised green on
either side
My sister is asleep in the front seat
the dark moving in and out of her open mouth
The night is long and seamless
The night is long and seamless
The night is long and seamless
The night is long and Suddenly
something rends the fabric something is moving
there and
the windshield becomes a cinemascope screen the lights
of Twentieth Century Fox and Gulf Western shine on
the animal the animal the moose in the middle of the road
frozen
staring at its fate bearing down at sixty miles an hour
Its eyes its eyes its eyes o god its stare up to
the last minute and the dull thud of metal on
flesh
And my sister wakes up screaming a loud crazy
final scream
as if the soul of the moose had entered
her as it
died and finally
the silence
the silence of our silence in
the silence between
Timmins and Toronto

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