He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Tucked up his knees.
He’s nearly forty, but not at the moment.
He exists just as he did inside his mother’s womb,
clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness.
Tomorrow he’ll give a lecture
on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics.
For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep.
Wislawa Szymborska was a Polish poet, essayist, translator and recipient of the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature. Her work has been translated into English and many European languages, as well as into Arabic, Hebrew, Japanese, Persian and Chinese. Her last poetry was published later in 2012.