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father poem

minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
glass-blower do tempo
e assim vai
podem falar do amor em uma casa de campo
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
uma vida na onda do oceano
cai aqui nenhuma luz
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
rode-me para baixo pelo prado

 



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