fragmented, no. 2

… the architecture of waves, pelicans in adagio
but a tempo slower, the silver-colored fish, streaks
of light, like conversations out of reach, counting
waves, the soft and hard ones …

the sun-reflected surface makes me sleepy
as if a hypnotist at work: my thoughts resisting
this sleep that feels like the final dust of
existence …

starfish sucking the life out of clams,
the weight of the ocean …

… the frail branches of an old tree, an old woman
an old dog, a city that’s outbuilding itself, straight
up from Hell, straight into the atmosphere, across
the sky, across the universe …

at sunset, the challenge the sun has to stay alive,
as if a magician at work: darkness falls, like the dead
flame of life, several seconds pass, then several more,
I collect the darkness …

time flies, like a harbinger of bad news, like
an awkward simile that needs explaining …

… of all of my loves, of those who were actually
lovers, either married or single, you were the one
who drew me in, against our will, both hearts fell,
bodies withered and jerked …

at sunrise everything reshaped, our bodies felt
alien to each other: nothing has changed but
the distance between us, always these forbidden
remains …

how our voices grew hoarse, outside it was raining,
everything had rusted …

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