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graduation poem

l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
il est allé
faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final
avec les yeux doux et bruns
sous la feuille sombre de laurier
il est venu me prendre par la main
c'est l'arsenal
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
les jours hypocrites

 



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