Feast
I’m afraid you misunderstood.
I didn’t come here to join you
in your feast.
you think I’m smiling
because I absorb your words
I only absorb the spark in the eyes of those who lie
and wooden wings
and pagan rituals.
people used to praise the Sun
now they stealthily adore it
till the last drop.
I’m afraid you’re mistaken.
you went too far
and lost your home
my home doesn’t have walls
or a mother or a friend
or a telephone.
next year they’ll be making money out of clay
children won’t go to school
so they’ll collect rocks in their bags
and wait in front of gates.
I’m afraid you’ve stolen me.
I prayed to the bouquet of flowers
on my bed (which isn’t even mine anymore)
for it to listen to me once.
who will listen to me
when the bouquet of flowers sent me violins
and a late grandfather
and an old friend
and something that sometimes resembles will.
I’m afraid you’ve stolen me
and are already moving on.
I think I shall keep loving.
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