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


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


stop this turning, to and fro-ing

stop this spinning, endless heaving

let hands hang;

the moon is waiting for you, in her


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