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sister poem

flores dos bebês
antes do saint de bronze solemn
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
receoso não mais, eu digo
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
no porto de york novo
com alegria e maravilha
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
quando você vier hoje à noite
escute o mar soando
doce e forte
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
seu cabelo bonito
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua

 



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