two women on a platform
one of them looks
as the top button of the other’s dress in the colour
of dust from Hierapolis and of the sunset over Ephesus
comes undone – its orange-gold seams
step by step reveal the body
the black sail of underwear
rises and falls on the waves of words –
your button has come undone
would you mind …
and strange hands join up the borders of the dress like two worlds –
since he left me – says the woman –
to button the dresses on angels’ transparent bodies
buttoning hurts
like the sight of an empty pillow at dawn
like the anxiety about an invitation arriving for two
and like the arms of a woman bent back embracing
only herself as she tries to button her dress
you must then – says the first woman – say goodbye
to dresses with a button-back fastening
and those with zippers from the waist
to the nape of the neck flooded with kisses
so they – like him – depart and stay there
until the time to come