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acrostic poem

er wird gegangen
um Mitternacht
was wir jetzt tut
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
wer den Wind nennen wird
drei Tage hörte ich sie, sich Sorgen zu machen, wann ich absolut lege
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
sie können von der Liebe in einem Häuschen sprechen
ich sagte
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
bewiesen im Schimmer in Ihren Augen
neben einem geschlagenen Feld

 



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