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daughter poem

es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
herauf von den Süden am Bruch des Tages
als weiße Kerze
der Körper kann begrenzen
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
ich brenne keinen Duft
der Schnee whispers über mich
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
in den Hallen des Schlafes wandered Sie vorbei
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
rühren Sie sich
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert

 



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