like a baby snail, scared
I've closed myself in my shell
all day, all night
no dawn, no twilight
I am waiting.
the humble skeleton, my desire is laughing.
noon.
hunger overcomes it,
but the taste of the damp earth,
the salty-sour-sweet spices
are no excitement anymore.
so here we are
on the Collines de Normandie
my pain that cracks open my shell
your absence that feeds my pain
so what we are
in the dying yellow grass
a teardrop and an eye
the blood and the knife
you are flowing away
and I drown in you