The ground covered
March 1, 2008
Posted in Poetry, The well |
C’était le dernier froid. La dernière journée trop emmitouflée. Je laisse les couches tomber, éparses, je les laisse me quitter sans un mot, sans un bruit. Je peux imaginer que l’air soulevé lancerait un cri s’il le pouvait. Que de tremblements dans l’atterissage forcé d’une cape en mal d’héro. Ou d’héroine.
Il y aura, puisque le passé ne conjugue plus mes matins, il y aura.
Non je ne me tais pas.
I just need to have some fun, remember? That’s what you said.
There was a little fuck you in my step, there was a little fuck you in my grin.
And it all made sad sense.
How weight can be worn in so many different ways.
Layers upon layers, the ground covered and still I walk, because that’s all I am built to do.
Fuck baby steps. I’m walking in strides.
I’m walking, I’m walking, I’m back.
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Yearrgh !
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