A corner

 

In this strange land where I have no place, I found a bench on a park: my solace, my spot, my whereabouts and my piece of green. Here nothing touches.

 

 

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At Night

 

 

Armed Soldiers swarm the garden

Scorching everything in its path

Our home infested

Bodies crawling, wailing

Wretched hatchlings of a better time

A red tide covers the floor

The neighbours trembling

No more than cockroaches

Scrambled in crevices

Torn between salvation and succour

Nobody breathed for an eternity and a half

Infernal nights

Bedevilled the country

Only fear and despair

Hovering in the sky

 

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W

Waiting for you on a Sunday afternoon
On my bench I remember the sun eroding your skin
Our land so far away

Sky

For her, the sky at night was velvet devoured by luminous moths.

 

 

 

 

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Behold

Behold the sunbirds,

 Mutters in her deathbed,  

After all 

What else is there to do, 

Now that even the shadows have departed?

Long

Long after they have gone

She kept dreaming

The colour of their hair

Under the meandering afternoon sky

100

                             One hundred steps from the house to the newsagent

One hundred steps from the house to the park

               One hundred steps from the house to the lights

                                                                       One hundred steps from the house to the pond

One hundred steps going nowhere

Star

She thinks about falling stars. She misses the sky, the river, the wind.

 

 

Posted with Blogsy

Came

I came a long time ago

Have no friends

Just the streets and the sky

Do I feel alone? 

Sometimes in the afternoon

 Fleeting rush swerving around my skin.

Where?

 

Where is she? In the small airless cupboard-sized room, or beneath the sofa burning candles to expel the wandering ghosts-always ready to steal her voice, perhaps on the bed petrified next to her mother's corpse, on the stairs dirty as mud, on the chair defying her grandmother, drinking ketchup directly from the bottle, showing her ass in front of the cracked mirror, spitting on the face reflected. Where is she?

 

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Walk

She walks around looking for a trace, a sign of a long forgotten sky.

My

My head curses the day I was born

Now

You are here and will always be

                                                                                                            Forget about the past                                 

    It is done and gone

 Now 

 You have nothing besides your shadow.