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teacher poem

sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
was spiteful Wahrscheinlichkeit unawares stiehlt
ich bete nicht für Frieden
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
sie war eine Schönheit an den Tagen
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
Schriftsatz auf einer Fliegennacht
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
folglich kann ich nicht
für Wahrheit für Liebe

 



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