(Foto: Natalia Drepina)
You blink gray
to fade
nourisher
holder of spears and honey
you jingle
no borders in a row
I see waves
greater than my childhood
what is weaving
in velvet fluttering loss
I feel it here under
uncover
your glowing limb now
wich was made in times unknown
to fold the chapters
we learned too well
You say
open the tombs of November
we are all teachers
when the sun sets
there are shouts so mute
in there
and my throat is bound
to unearthly words
Your eyes are writing
the last moisture
the fame
for the dessert that will follow
the crescent slain on dunes
You say
open the tombs of November
I wear one of the rings of Saturn
and a very long engagement
is waiting for me
in there
where enough is out of filling
and tasks are empty gallows
my ears are scratched
in my ribs
cathedral buttresses
will welcome echoes
air be quite.
