Meshes of the Afternoon

Meshes of the Afternoon

Glassy eyes, seeing only dark figures,
bête noire, ne vois pas,
seulement toi, toi seul tu verras
Blades of steel and ocean point to
repetition of repetition of repetis.
The afternoon’s sun is cold.
You stroll, you swallow. The flower of
your soul is heard in silences.
The Wind blows hot.
Only you you shall see,
sitting in the shade
sitting across from you
sitting across from you.
The mirror breaks at the quay,
the key snaps at the lock,
the lock opens at the door,
the door hides the flower,
the flower cuts your hand,
you hand cuts your
your
you.
Don’t let her slip ‘tween your cold fingers.
Don’t let her