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friend poetry

la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
un oiseau a chanté
seule
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
ne tournez pas votre tête
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
peu de parc que je traverse

 



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