you met him at some temple
where they take your clothes at the door
he was just a numberless man in a chair
who had just come back from the war
and you wrap up his tired face in your hair
and he hands you the apple core
then he touches your lips, now so suddenly bare
of all the kisses we put on sometime before
.
tamsios ziemos dienos
nieko nera graziau
No comments:
Post a Comment