 |
| The Falling Rocket, James Abbot Whistler |
the gaslights burning
lights of cobbled streets
she awakes in the darkened bedroom and
screams stares
into the starless ceiling listening to
the snoring stranger beside her
the moon reveals his sleeping face
she knows him he is
sheltered but insane the beat of life
before the wolf took him
she is not his wife anymore
neptune roaring over the sea
the bearded man big as the cliffs
with a trident in his hand
lantern
she hurries down the beach
past echoes abandoned machine gun stations
and finds me by the rotten seaweed
the stench
i feel the map of tiny blood vessels
under her skin
as our breaths mingle
and august remains
© Anders Enochsson 2021
Kommentarer