salva me:
September 2, 2012 § Leave a comment
we saw the moon shine down on shutters open, even
then, she did not love her chosen
husband
cold inside the car, breath full of frosting
this summer’s ghost an image on the windscreen
where one won’t speak for sunshine
one won’t will the seasons
passing
stop this turning, to and fro-ing
stop this spinning, endless heaving
let hands hang;
the moon is waiting for you, in her
nightgown
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