Wake up, don't marry

him if you are not yearning --


for him in sweet dreams.

In his dream he gropes

for her and the night also --


seeks her hiding-place.

It's our secret bed,

there in the dark, where we live --


dreaming together.

You change every day,

you don't want me, I miss what --


has not even been.

Drowning refugees,

sailing to the other side --


of their hope, their dream.

Just you, all of you,

and my imagination --


and my hankering.

Underground, my thoughts
collide with him
They tear flames

from his stature, from his voice
They blow fire into his house
put a fire around his wife

A chain of craters
Ash clouds over the world
And me in the Peaceful Centre

of the catastrophes
which must hit his marriage
without harming him

How many aftershocks to go?
How much heat?
How much desire?

She bends over, her buttocks on show
while she puts her shoes away
She never looks through the window

I never can make contact with her
across the street and expose
me and my desire

It is hot, it's blowing so hot
through the city that I would leave
space in between us, caress her

only lightly, not lie against her
and first put out the light
or close the curtains, with a *****

by the window, happy to lie
awake from the heat, next to her
close to her body

The harbour bell blocks

all men with colourful socks --


in the Northern Docks.