Motto: ”My uncle loves me too much…”
Gwendolyn Brooks
I don’t know how old I am
perhaps six or seconds before
in the florist-shop across the river
all vases smell like hell
he is standing in a floating tub
in the middle
a central-piece on a quantity of water
my uncle is nice
my uncle is fishing
I like him a lot
he loves me too much
honey,
tonight I shall disappear
at 12.00 am sharp.
I shall leave behind
both my crystal shoes,
the keys to your palace,
one vague sense of disbelief
a couple of unwatched sunsets
a few piles of neatly folded silences,
the red roses you nearly bought on my birthday
and the corkscrew
which you will
most probably
need.
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