Ghazal VII
oarage, the swirling motion now
the hand finds the gunwale, they
unlit lighthouse circumnavigated
as if things set aside, as if sleep
the bowl emptied, the brittle pitcher filled
the flood-water blue, environing
bone, turquoise gleaming sheets of crystal
sentences, depressed within this wall
hands move in unison
jealous fire rises from the crutches
do you walk across the floorboards
incomparable.
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Tomas Söderlund
Läst 268 gånger och applåderad av 7 personer Publicerad 2015-03-23 00:50 |
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Föregående Tomas Söderlund |