Amnesia

I lay on the narrow bed

with my mouth open

a mosquito bites my tongue

just when I was dreaming to speak

 

something about the last war

or the long lasting peace without borders

pointing with the machine-gun

to the insect fallen in a moon’s crater

 

I wake up with bloody lips

because of too much silence

and words lost on the front

without question marks

like apples of Discord sliced with the axe

like a black box of a guillotined pilot

 

thrusting deep the champagne cork

to avoid an explosion

I drink only sweet water from a spring

consecrated at day break