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break up poem

le jour est fait
effrayé pas plus, je dis
j'ai vu la première poire
tous en baisse les années
avec le coucher du soleil
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
Ă  minuit
treize ans toujours
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
environ porté plainte au maître
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
hors de la mer de scintillement

 



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