in the nine months of November I repaint swallows in their boxes of blood and steel and make angels from dust and burned out candles
perhaps
the still
shorter
days
giddy
makes it hard
she slaps the hand
for the sun
to find us
of her
imaginary
visitor
.
i novembers ni måneder maler jeg svalerne igen i deres æsker af blod og stål og former engle af støv og nedbrændte lys
måske
de stadig
kortere
dage
fnisevorn
gør det svært
slår hun
sin indbildte
gæst
for solen
at finde os
over fingrene
No comments:
Post a Comment