modus vivendi

and now comes that moment when a hand
draws the curtains over the sunset
like it is customary
when the last page from a good novel locks
inside the gardener’s daughter head another garden
as big as all the other wonders of this worlds

my body rolls amid old pillows
I rotate within the squared dial of my room
I am content that I’m not weightless
that I have a living shape and my heels nailed to the floor
and I stretch myself
with one leg shorter than the other
like the mistress of the sun king and churchill and other figures
in a procrustian world in all its joints

there will be another day when the undertakers will take
from my bed sheet a drop of saint imprint alike christ’s

Categories: My Poems in 2015 | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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