Translated from the French by Anne-Marie Glasheen
The Taste of Void
I took sleep from your pocket,
tattooed on your bone was a flower
red proffered
I put away your entrails
left drying with curls and shoes
by ear
I took the temperature of ecstasy
and on your blue lip
tested the taste of the void,
my breath suits you so well
*
Mothers leave fathers fade away
dismembered by the absent one
and children dream in a circle
of a mother clothed in light
fathers fade away
mothers leave
mothers carry little ones already old
old ones too little
and wild men
collected at the side of the road
that leads straight to the sun
*
There is simply an urgency
to leave the body,
by the chimney or the mouth,
the ears are for the spleen,
and the nostrils look out onto the void,
there is simply an urgency
to find the emergency wound
*
What will remain of me?
Some sand in your thoughts
a few fingers on your sex
and some small bones under your pillow
__
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