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mother poem

faccialo rotare giù dal prato
prima del san bronze solenne
ascolti
come candela bianca
ombre alate che scopano vicino
li ho sentiti nella notte
al lover appassionato
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
sto morendo
nelle mattine nube-grige
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
la donna molto ha mancato, come denominate a me, chiamata a me

 



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