it’s not that you can choose
your cards are dealt, the passages
the places you had to go through everything
painted on your soul
the good, the bad
even the beautiful
you know which was you
swimming up
alone
the reach for the moon, brass ring, bright rose
the years your soul was cloistered
some pact you had to make
with souls
you want to find your siren call
swimming in the last seas, sustained
the little candle against white plaster
the crude bed
the vast view
you want his eyes alone on you
it was a league ten thousand strong
kore on the shore, so long
so long that years could never speak
the tongue in silence
did retreat
~
“loteria” — copyright 2011 — all rights reserved
(a start anyway, on something that might get longer.)
VALENTINE BONNAIRE - WRITER 