2016. április 28., csütörtök

Franz Wright: Old story

First the telephone went,
the electricity.
It was cold,
and they both went to sleep
as though dressed for a journey.
Like addictions condoned
from above evening
fell, lost
leaves waiting
to come back as leaves—
the long snowy divorce…
That narrow bed, a cross
between an altar
and an operating table. Voice
saying, While I was alive
I loved you.
And I love you now.

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