I wish...
I wish I could write you
A poem,
A circular one.
Within,
The language changes
Like a flower emerges from a dot,
Like a young squirrel gnawing a comma;
Like a child crawling over letters,
Frivolously tearing words,
And arranging them into cubes and pyramids.
A child is always a genius.
See,
Whatever is
The poem's geometry,
its relief,
if it is a harvest,
Raining,
Freedom,
Love,
Woman,
War,
Or spiritual day;
A poem remains a currency,
A God's work
Never revealed,
Never finished,
Never done.
I wish
If you let me go back
To the day
You were born
To write,
Between your infant eyebrows,
And
On your lips
A song
A happy and dancing
One.
And extract from your red cheeks
A rare wine. |
