Sunday, July 12, 2015

rosemary water

it falls on me suddenly
like bandits in the mountains,
like the dark you did not expect,
a bird of prey that drops like stone
eyes on a kill.
there are no gentle metaphors

the field stretches out in front of me
a lazy, languid meadow day
i sip infusion,
regret skimping on the apricots
bat away the buzzing mosquito,
think:
i could stay here, like this, forever
in the sun and shadow
reading books
drinking drinks

and it falls like an axe
heavy, sudden, definite
so that i set down my glass

'there are no more chances for love'

and that is that.
what falls is not again lifted

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