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daughter poem

bis zu ihrem Raumfenster
wir legen
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten
lassen Sie das reizende Wortunsaid
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
ich kann nicht Ihnen jetzt erklären
Sonne und Wind und Schlag von Meer
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus

 



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