I advise
the devil to return the gifts
I advise
the hours of love to languish
I feel
divided in meltwater and tears
the deaf
visions reminisce
I advise
the soap to conjure the sick
out from
under its rotting leaves
while the
harvest levels the field
and I still
doubt whether I will ever fully recover.
Every day there is something
ugly and cold to sing about
like
something sung without front teeth
and every
day there is something beautiful too.
I have
written it on the inside of the bark of trees
I have
tasted it in the cores of apples
my tongue wanders around
teeth marks of ruins
I write
about it
I have
cried in front of even you
I withdraw
when needed yes
I rebuild
quietly
and I still
doubt whether I will ever fully recover.
Every day there is something
ugly and cold to sing about
like
something sung without front teeth
and every
day there is something beautiful too.

No comments:
Post a Comment