ASHES
You did not shake my hand
when I was up for it,
now my hand is shaking
when I lie next to you –
touchless.
On the foreshore of time
we admire the shells of our shadows
cuddled by erosion:
exhale your body,
let the fossil sink.
We’ll recompose it from the inside
with a softer chalk
and a quieter breath.
We’ll abandon abundance
and blow toward each other.
We, electrified grains of sand
Riding a burning ocean –
ashes,
ashes,
magnetic ashes
hacking the thinnest voids
of this stuffy shelter.
Desynchronized,
trackless,
whisperless –
ashes,
ashes.
Gedicht
von Michele Scaccaglia
