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sister poem

un orage monte sur la marée
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
de nos endroits cachés
quand absence de sa taille de montagne
vieux vin à boire
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
j'ai fait un voeu par le passé, un seulement
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
l'air est comme un papillon
je l'aime
beaux, tragical visages
elle a éclaté le vin féroce
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien

 



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