Hole
Tell your secrets to a hole in the
ground facing north for then the
earth will swallow up your
secret for all time it shall enter into
the memory of the soil and the
rivers and the plains and the
gods atop the mountains will take
it then as your secret dissolves into the
air it will be forgotten for all
time this was foretold by the
birds that scattered holding the
secrets in their beaks like writhing
worms that were grateful for the release, the
cessation of the burden of memory.
Ottilie Mulzet translates from Hungarian and Mongolian. She is currently completing a PhD on the subject of Mongolian riddles and proverbs. Her artwork, prose, and photography have appeared in the Prague-based journal Revolver Revue since 2000. Her poems have appeared in The Sand, morphrog, the delinquent, the Muse, the missing slate, and The English Chicago Review.