I don’t belong to me, to you, to her, to him. Who are you, I ask myself again falling in love for a tender shoot, uncoiling under the debris of unfaithful corners?
I was watching a small birdie hopping against a mirror, cracking the beak to kill a rival.
She was pulling at my arm white death in red scarf.
This is for you my fellow-traveller, a beautiful sector of my hidden garden, where I have permitted you to come for a walk. Hand in hand, we will watch the peerless evening – sitting on the wings of gulls. Will you like to break a promise before I implode on the moon?
You light the earthen lamp daily under a tree, to possess me, trap me, digest me. Voicelessly I melt into smoke, fly away in small huffs.
