Windowpane

Neglected hairs left to rot in the corner
Sharp rays falling from a broken shutter
Into thick warm air. Shivers.
Breathing is not a thing of love
It’s a gesture: human version of a god like song
Inhabiting the sky with violent moves – a blast

There are shapes and shadows
Figures walking in and out of places
Illusions fade away

And then her bells hit the ground
People started to move around yelling
Shame fright anger disgust
Banging on the walls pointing fingers
Pulling tongues teeth and lips
Hysterical fingers
Time has come will come
Outraged


The next morning
Much better

Céline Cadaureille