Slaked Lime

I powder myself in the mirror

dressed in Pierrot clothes

my skullcap over ears and eyes

 

it has been snowing so much

that I can’t choose between black and white

waiting for the spring

to embrace tightly a young birch

to take along with me the trees’ illness

 

I won’t mourn the yesterdays

like an embalmed mummy

in  a hidden room

the sun will avoid my traces

a human still alive

in a leper’s rags