Elegy of rotten tomato
I can count how many times something like monster
or dragon whispers a rumour about the moon
or folly or rotten tomato-
but, should that murmur or scene live or stay or grow
in the mind, wide and strange.
I meant before evening or before the world or dawn?-
What if the world can be black and white, like sometimes
like sometimes shadow, like sometimes rainbow?,
A plague?, a strike? or a damnation?,
Ah!, sometimes love a requim, a pit, a fall, a black hole,
or whichever case never become silvery but an elegiac
weep?.
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