Somewhere in My Body Are Two Flowers for the Same Person
I do not always have the right thing to say
my foot sometimes moves without me
a wing of my library is filled
with only the knocking of one cuckoo clock
and the voices of yellow flowers
a path of empty vases follows us
somewhere in my body
small memories
fold newspapers by the thousands
turning them into small squares
źródło: Read A Little Poetry
10.09.2026