bare-foot on window ledge
with knees to chest
while coldness
weaves a nightgown
from shoulders to horizon
it snows with cryogenic
wool
white is all there is
and
when his sleepless temples
slump in my lap
blood flows a crimson tide
through half my heart
and a bird
wings back into my bones
as waters rise
under soles
between two words the voice
loses its balance
glides on its reflection
in corners flashes of shadow
the speakers the writers buried
and in the mouth
the forgotten taste of crushed vowels
I will grasp the distance
and gently rub my palms
one
against the other
pieces of broken glass slipping through my fingers
no, not the happiness
and you’ll drink in the last drop until you reach fear
we’ll seed the wood into the first tree
of each village
behind us like a dragon
the embraced angels
bring the fatality of an ascending path
then
only then
I will arise in you
"septicemia memoriei" de Marina Nicolaev
Déjà ils me guettent dans le sommeil
chemins lacustres
la sandale de sable de la mer
bâille de sa semelle humide et me dévore
en grignotant des huîtres bleues
phosphorescentes.
les genoux impatients des papillons
fatigués, transpirant sous le soleil
glissent épuisés
par l'architecture
incertaine de la vague
en se suicidant.
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