Scorching

do cover my sleep with stones
you stranger in a blue coat
if you have a light touch
they will become hearth baked bread
round between shoulders and hips

my life is a hot oven
as long as I will sleep the dough will be softer
slowly it will froth again
I will be just a salt grain in the middle
kneaded inside

don’t ask for my name
don’t wake me up at any cost
don’t cry if you will hear me whining
like a baby in a trough
I will vanish within the boiling leaven

keep your tears safe
you must have the heart to liquefy
that small bead of yeast
left in the end

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Categories: My Poems in 2011 | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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