Domino Love – K. B

Domino Love



In the numbness of an evening,
There is me,
And there is you .

There is us.

But we can’t see them.

In the shadows, we brush, we touch.

In the meadows, we lie and tell

The stories untold, « unsacred » on the negro streets

And we round in circles on the antique site of domino love ;

We fire the cross that binds, we trespass on the secrets revealed ;

We listen to the « holy »land of « mother-doom »

Of incense and smell ;

On the verge of insanity
And low humanity,

Locked up by unwantedness ;

Uncrushed by the rolling fires of a silent river and coiling stones

In an uncarved scenery like the one of deep trouble.

In « unseen », the colors are fading, ragging the nerves to shreds.

I imagine a world of beauty in the ruins of our time ,

Of walking men in the deep light of an urban dazzle

That blinds the eye that wandered in the woods just before

And got used to the quiet dimness

But the sound of police caught up, was too loud and disrupting

And the unheard cry of people dying alone

Was the shout of the siren from the ambulance.

It all shattered, but yet,
The tree was so serene,
And yet,
The leaves were hanging
As if by a graceful hand suspended.

The airy leafy sunny warm day
Was full of sweat ,
And water was running
On a forehead
That doesn’t understand
A thing.

Where is the pain of work?
Nowhere to be seen.

Where is the cool rest of things expressed ?

It lies with bare hands, or a sliding tong, that seeks the leek of another cavity, to finally rest muted, by the fire of love in a womb unsought, in a tomb unclad, unearthed from any earthly concern, haha, that’s the real death, rest !

O finally rest ! And a pale smile of the ones who come back to Him unconcerned anymore.






All rights reserved. 2018.


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