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grandma poem

indéfiniment
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
complètement des larmes
la noblesse de la mort encore
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
ville qui n'est pas une ville
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
le long d'une rive
contre la flamme verte de l'aubépine-arbre
du soleil ni des étoiles
en matins nuage-gris
du plancher au plafond

 



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