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lost love poem

il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
un, comme part d'un arbre
vous faites ne pas entendre
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
dans ma main je me tiens
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler

 



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