Autumn Crocus

each night I’m running

through a nightmare transgressing

into pink and purple

since springtime until fall

 

from my lost body

drifting in the labyrinth

between suns

my viscera are good enough

only for the sacrificial knife

predicting a future

like a nebulous placenta

from leaves skeletons

 

my chest is full of stars

empty of pain and blood

a moon plaster squeezes

my hardened heart

when I will fall in the dust

a crater will be left above

and not a single thistle below

 

my God please dress me rather

in silvery voices of angels

I’ll be a capsized bell

with its brim towards the sky

Reviews

[Marie]

A capsized bell is a crocus...harbringer of Autumn...

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

As usual you are very affectionate and understanding reviewer. Thank you very much Marie.