(Pull yourself together,
This is no Anna Karenina!)
.
.
In this Whoreland
Of no air conditioning, no stove
To warm bread nor breasts,
She walks by, Jean Rhys eau de toilette,
Doll allure, indifferent, little lips.
No joke to be upset, holding purse tight
After some war.
I swear I´ve drunk no absinthe
From the common cabinet dans les coulisses,
I promise I didn´t kiss you
nor in my worst nightmares.
I stand black-lipped after blood hard biting
Nails and the crook of the elbow
the passerella to your hand
Holding my pen- stolen.
My silhouette, mein Herr
Is her kicking my legs and making me
Lean so low that I kissed you unmistakenly.
.
YM 2024
Gahhh I love this! Makes me remember how much I love words!!! Words are delicious
so amazing