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mom poem

die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
um so bald zu diesem zu kommen stellte sich Dunkelheit vor
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
als ich ein Junge an der Hochschule war
ich loathed Sie
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
alle jene Schätze, die liegen
Glück
und so geht sie
ich fülle diese Schale
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
lassen Sie einen Freudenunterhalt Sie

 



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