Omelette
really, i’m really starving
from the frame of my room’s window
afternoon sun looks like an omelette
wonderful, well-fried, big and wide
but that omelette has been divided,
slaughter by neighbors’ tv antennas
by phone and electronics cables
and without a few for my stomach
i try to make my tears not to drops
remind me again my mom’s omelette
i used to be find one, a whole one,
as her love with her children
with continues fallen saliva
i see that omelette without wink
but only few seconds then
it is gone ravenous-dine
by whom i don’t know
and then left sky alone
like dirty-grubby plate
tonight when dark covers the space
night lamps one by one wake
i will crawl go out from my room
then silently lick the sky-plate
before cleaned by rain or dew
only to entertain my hunger stomach
then sleep and dream about an omelette
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