This Silence

There was silence then
in the Kyiv apartment, forming a soft
layer into which I could stick a pin.
I walked to the department store
in my heeled shoes until my feet bled.

I bought a player
to listen to all the cassettes
to break the silence,
especially when I was having friends
over for pasta and freshly gathered mushrooms.

Instant coffee afterwards
and a cigarette on the balcony,
imagining the sounds
of the cassettes even when
they weren’t playing.

There was silence then
pierced by a fish bone
in a restaurant
where friends sang about an evening
in the capital.

Now silence
is pierced
by air-raid sirens.
Now silence
is full of partings.