Today we were found guilty
of our signature at
the bottom of the tea.
Wilted leaves at random:
our identities.

The clues pointed to us,
the traces we had disgraced.

In fury the cup burst, and
ran a scar into the parquet.
But
there was
sealing agent left.

We tipped it onto the floor
and onto ourselves in turns.
First, the tips of our noses,
then our lips, and foreheads,
mosaic parcels merging,
skin vibrating: synchronous
simulation sealing deep.

– breathe my skin –

We patterned ourselves
until we dissolved
into one lump of unsolvable mass.

When we were certain that
we could no longer be sensed apart,
we drew the curtains – wide open.

There was no one to point to,
no one to cuff,

only
a fragmented parcel
for the spectators –

and when they came to raid the room,
and tear the floor apart,
the teapot would whistle
and the leaves would sink
here
again
exactly.

About the Author:

Lisa Schantl is the founder and editor-in-chief of the literary magazine Tint Journal and assistant at treffpunkt sprachen – Centre for Language, Plurilingualism and Didactics at the University of Graz, Austria, where she researches translingual literature. She also freelances as translator and organizer of cultural projects.

She studied English and American Studies as well as Philosophy at the University of Graz and Montclair State University, New Jersey. Her writings and translations have appeared in Asymptote, La Piccioletta Barca, manuskripte, Panel Magazine, PubLab, The Hopper, The Normal Review, UniVerse, Versopolis, and more. She has received various grants and scholarships, most recently the Kunstraum Steiermark scholarship for 2023–24.

Copyright for headshot: Lena Baloch