Friend

by Hlín Leifsdóttir

Vinur
Friend

Before it’s too late to turn back
he hangs his black coat on the rack in the anteroom

hesitates, just a little
and then sheds his shadow, too

“Wait here, friend,” he says,
gently
as if to a faithful black dog
too innocent to follow
“I won’t be long”

The draught tells him that he won’t be coming back

He doesn’t know that, before he’s even crossed the threshold,
his shadow has snuck away

it bleeds into the crisp darkness outside

When nobody’s watching

Translated by Meg Matich.