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poem for pastors

entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
macio como a cama na terra
estes sejam
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
e meu nome é truthful
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
quando eu estive escutar, discreetly dumb

 



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