Listen Father, I lost my hunger,
I have no need of bread
any longer — Give me a stone.
I’ll leave the glass of wine
where it is, the sweet berries,
thyme and honey on the table.
In such a wide blue place, alone,
losing time, taste and touch,
an orphan inevitably turns
into a wild cat. But I never
hoped to be so mad, so gone,
to have fought so many wars,
unsheathed so many claws.
Now I long for another song,
not for this train of thoughts broken,
not for this station. There’s a line
of cliffs, I miss, ending in a lighthouse,
a wall of rock halfway up the sky,
cleared by a summer wind.
All that happens, the sea,
the city, happens under its wing.
It’s a tender chalk to lean on,
it never fears, dooms nor
cheats, and on the skin
oh it’s softer than silk.
Listen Father, keep that sugar,
I won’t lick your hand
which never took mine.
I can only stand there
untamed. Flowers and blood
are frail — this stone
holds it all. At dawn
it rocks me close and tight
in a firm touch of light.

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