Obliquity
An afternoon sunlight
carried a shade of winter,
an oblique sharp razor
that stretched my skin
and again I live, those northern seasons
with a feeling of deep intimacy,
the warmth addicts long for.
After the agony there is joy
resplendent as now
foretold by the decadent
song of my city,
sank and reborn from beneath
always, again and again
as water recedes from the river.
The choir of the stretched trees,
spreads an intense mantle of ochre
resplendent on the porous walls,
it resounds all along.
I saw your face sunk
into the depth of an alley
your thin hands white as snow
handing the dripping cold water.
I stood obviously embarrassed,
my sight blurred, my eyes teared
I pretended to search the stacks of old books
for an appealing title
“None is yours” you have whispered,
freezing sound of truth.
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