the hands of the clock
raced forward so quickly
& I, well
I only wanted them to stop.
To give your hands
the leisure of a slow expedition
(from the crown of my head
to the chasm)
I would have swallowed a rain cloud
Believe me, I would (have)
*et il y aurait toujours eu de la place pour toi *

Alas, in my time,
my mind, grew thorns
& when I found no way
to do away with doors,
I fixated upon those silver paths
to your hips
(which hung around like carcasses in a wallflowers’ Sahara)
I found a note out of tune,
and paint crumbling from the ceiling.

*puisque tu n’as jamais fermé la porte,
je me suis jetée par la fenêtre!