Poezie
Nirvana
intercostal 13
1 min lectură·
Mediu
up rises his arm to
the stony nape
how frost-biting there
why are you scratching there?
she laughs (without noticing
his concrete face reinforced
with painful spanners)
everything’s a puffery ad: even
the god’s legs and the goddess’s nails
noisy wreathes unfurl under windows
two silence–filled bags
hardly enough for a burial
so
at least
his arm could escape
hoisting its bust
on the uppermost shelf
of the paradise
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