Sprawled out,
stone made of noon,
half-open eyes in which whiteness becomes blue,
half-ready smile.
Your body rouses; you shake your lion's mane.
Again lying down,
a fine striation of lava in the rock,
a sleeping ray of light.
While you sleep I stroke and polish you,
slim axe,
arrow with whom I set the night on fire.
The sea fighting in the distance with its swords and feathers.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment