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mother daughter poem

ce qui je vous doivent
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
dans la sphère
orage
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
la noblesse de la mort encore
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
et comment avez osé vous rêve de la réunion
j'ai vu les étoiles les plus fières
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit

 



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