Don’t ask me where I was
When you were altered, nightly.
Our stories told on naked bed:
Drowning
This summer
In you.
Don’t ask if I have ever stood awake
To watch how wind waltzed with your words
And leaves along the asphalt.
Whispers,
Rustles
Rhyming.
Don’t ask if once, as stars were garlanded,
And memories hung up to dry
I could not go to sleep.
Those nights
I was
That rain
That knocked on your dark window panes
Or alert ashes in the wind
Meandering between the lamps:
Two
Longings
Thwarted.
Now shake the sand dust off your shoulder
And scarf your sun-burnt neck.
No words, but with a sigh, endure
First
Glass-cuts
Of this autumn.
September
© Copyright: Егор Лановенко, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108093004227
Свидетельство о публикации №108093004227
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