A Test of What’s Luminous

--Małgorzata Lebda (trans. Mira Rosenthal)

At night in the village, something opens the dogs’ snouts. It begins

at the ravine. A fire of growls leaps to the house from a Labrador

down the street. The first one conveys something to the next.

Let’s call it: distress, panic—the sound it makes.

I turn on the light, the animals close their snouts. Turn it off. Open.

On. Closed. Off. Is it possible the same thing calms them as us?

Fine—I say—today we’re sleeping through a test of what’s luminous.

I look down the valley, scattered houses, flashes inside,

as if each person is conducting the same experiment tonight.