Poezie
Still life
1 min lectură·
Mediu
through dice the six-shooter gleams at the burnt end
of the bullet
at the other end, like in a comet tale,
blood spheres
within angles the meat pieces quench
on the alleys: first step from kids’ run,
screams in a thousandth second,
leaves stopped at a few centimetres from ground
birds with the spread wings, a shadow
getting closer to the
knees
the lady in white put aside
her strings
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