Untitled, London Bellman
*
And for the first time, begins
till even today all water
longs to escape with the sun
the way the dead have been taught
and once on shore
wait for the waves to open again
as flowers smelling from salt
and lips and readiness
–it’s not by accident
blood at the slightest chance
will run away
though not every wound
can be traced back to the sharp turn
and circling down into stones
by the mouthfuls –you taste a sea
stained by faraway nights
and teeth then loneliness
and not one star is spared
–by morning the throbbing
is at home in your heart
brings it closer and closer
as if a sister sun, not yet visible
rises inside the months, years, oceans
and what you carry off
is the silence they once were
silent and covered with smoke
no longer struggling or grass.
__________________
Simon Perchik