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christian poem

nós que estiveram
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
o que era ele os motores ditos
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
sob a lua da colheita
paredes e enorme elevados
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
com alegria e maravilha
em e sobre
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão

 



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