back to the kitchen
to face again
the hand of the suicide
as I had left it before
floating
its five fingers pointing at the ceiling
like a lost glove full of flesh
and guilt

the woman never shuts up

with her black dress and yellow apron
the old woman
keeps working at the sink
exterminating the black ants with a fork
moving her arms rapidly
neurotically moving her arms
speaking nonsense
never turning her head
her body still
persistently
mechanically exterminating the ants
all of a sudden
she says:
remember the monster outside?

I have to return to the other room
knowing I'm missing something behind
suspecting that
from one moment to another
someone's going to push the button
and the game is over