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sex poem

das traurigste des Jahres
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
die alten Songs
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
gestern Abend legte der Vollmond ein Tuch von Weiß
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
weich als das Bett in der Masse
könnten wir aber zu wissen
in ihren zackigen regimentals
über den Dachspitzen laufen Sie die Schatten der Wolken

 



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