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family poem

morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
mi sono sentito che una principessa sicura
non sia arrabbiato con me
non posso ora dirvi
non giri la vostra testa
alti pareti ed enorme
corsa alto-sopportata
ha scoppiato il vino feroce
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
vi ricordate di
forse è materia che avete morto

 



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