Digging for a new tree
I find bones in my garden
that have lived
where I live now

in a house like mine
maybe the same
dressed with flesh
two eyes and a mouth

a stranger like the neighbour
with his wild hair in a bathrobe
in front of the window
like so many people

staff and passers-by
people who are busy
and people who are bored
extras, all of them

they act and fill the world
of others without playing
in a play, including me
with the bones in my hand