| You can’t just lie there on the bed, you know.
|
| You can’t lie there without kissing back, you know!
|
| All the piles of books and not even a blood nose!
|
| I smell of blood.
|
| And is there really nothing I can do to you?
|
| is there nothing to add here?
|
| I look through the sand in your mouth.
|
| and pick out the pearls
|
| and place them in the beaks
|
| of the pigeons.
|
| Ididitonce, thedead, deadwaterlilythingwater
|
| You must have known
|
| that when I left I felt your head turning
|
| but had no mercy.
|
| My words were simple — I’d given up poetry —
|
| and I climbed back into the t o w e r,
|
| up the fine plaited ladder.
|
| In the car — can you feel the sweater tag itching?
|
| pulling at the neck where I tied your threadstogether?
|
| Your spine plaited down
|
| your back
|
| thefeminineside
|
| but not on my body.
|
| AndslowlyIreelyouinin
|
| Unravelling with me up the escalators,
|
| down the road,
|
| around the corner,
|
| untie my hair from the ocean of winter.
|
| The roads and the cars dissolve behind me as I
|
| untie you;
|
| walkonthewater;
|
| onthesweetwaterlilies.
|
| There is no giving back you know. |
| You take and take again. |
| Is that what you
|
| want?
|
| Listen:
|
| sud
|
| ba
|
| uso
|
| busbusbusbuscarcarcarcarbusbusbdr
|
| roadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroadroa |