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anniversary poetry

quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
je la pense splendide juste
je me tiens par temps gris froid
dites-moi pas
en septembre
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
un mille derrière
peu de parc que je traverse
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
est souvent il pas aussi?
j'étais une déesse avant que le marbre m'ait trouvé
ne soyez pas fâché avec moi
je les ai entendus la nuit

 



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