The Whistle

Suddenly a whistle
Shrieks out
Behind a passer-by


Whose body fills instantly with sawdust
Like a tree when it feels
At the edge of the forest
The saw.


Even so, says the man to himself, let’s not look round —
Maybe it’s for somebody else.
Anyway, let’s have a respite
Of a few more steps.


The whistle shrieks
Piercing
Again and again
Behind every passer-by


They turn purple, yellow, green, red
And go on walking, stiffened,
Without turning their heads.
Maybe it’s for somebody else —
Each one is thinking —
What have I done, only
One war, two wars?
And tomorrow I’ve the wedding
And the day after tomorrow my wife will give birth
In two days time I bury my parents —
I’ve so much to do, so many things.
It can’t be for me.


A child
Bought himself a whistle
And went out to try it
On the boulevard


Blowing it impishly in people’s ears.