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poem for dad

homme froid sévère
peu de parc que je traverse
l'aube était vert pomme
les ombres des bateaux
gloom
pour puis en dehors
une fois ce gazon mou
en matins nuage-gris
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier
voyez, de cette contrefaçon de lui
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
les petites prières blanches
si j'étais très sûr

 



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