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family poem

como águias na elevação ascendente
última meia-noite
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
eu disse
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
uma vez este turf macio
ido antes de nós
quem é o corredor nos céus

 



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