by Dorina Brândusa Landén
Cold as a dead fish eye
is the city in the first morning of winter
its streets wide and empty
like a death of a loner.
How oppressive is time
and how cracked by cold
your hands are touching
the feminine skin of snow
my heavy breasts
and between us unravels
these poor words
as breath between lips.
Why should I care about the long and savage roar
of the noise of the ocean?
I defy winter till tomorrow
I defy it deny it and decline it
with a burned incense of love
in the ruined gardens of summer
with the bite of my smile.
The city is full of traces
of steps of those who tread on felt
white on the fall of the thrilling snow.
From:
Dorina Brândusa Landén
Copyright ©:
Dorina Brândusa Landén
Last updated June 06, 2014