Ruler

I was born too early and too small

like a ruler

my mom used me to measure the coarse muslin

she embroidered with red flowers,

words.

I was happy walking beneath the table

upright

without having to stoop

at times mom left marks of discipline

when I’d forget to call out

and she couldn’t find me in the house.

at school they forgot about me

in the gym among the balls

since then I’ve rolled along

in a dizzying

game...

I was born too early...

I am small, like a defect-effect of perception

I sneak with ease among objects

and people

like a good joke

I play hide-and-seek with a man

tall as the moon.

when I close my eyes at night

I grow up instantly, seeing myself a child

happy to hang on the carpet-beating bar

with no pain or preparation

it is a good exchange of images with the past

mom drew me on a tiny broken corner

of a book page

she made me as small as two lines on a ruler

so I could fit

I have grown some since then...

I am taller

along with my pile of books, my huge drawings

scattered around the house like a white strip

a cache of memories

where mothers at times nick or scribble

how much you’ve grown

now I'm no longer small,

I processed my image

in Photoshop, so even my height is adequate.

with an air ruler, I measure

the divisions of my life.

translated  by Adrian G Sahlean