Maria Mitsora: The End of the Show

Marita Mitsora

The End of the Show

Translated by Jacob Moe from the Greek.

Late at night I sit in the courtyard observing one of nature's tiny detestable drills buzzing at the outer walls of the house. It targets the, trying to dig a hole the way all wasps do. Then it makes one big mistake: it pauses on the screen door. With measured movements, I enter the house and spray it from inside. Though I soak it, it doesn't fall. I step out and sit down again, observing it. Noiselessly now, it fights to reach the bright bulb. For each step gained, two or three are lost. Creature of the sun, how come it strayed here at this late hour? Now it struggles to reach the light before it dies. Obviously it will fail, I can see that. But the very moment I expect it to fall so I can scoop it up with a broom, my secret human cruelty buzzing to a peak, it spreads its wings, flying high, darkness swallowing the end of the show.