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nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
die Schatten der Schiffe
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
ich fülle diese Schale
noch schaukelt ihr Grau Aufsatz über das Meer
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
ich weiß nicht wo
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
sie hörte die Kinder, in der Sonne zu spielen

 



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