She just returned from school
She tried to move
A pile of fog
With a broom
But all in vain
It had invaded the houses
Through the closed windows of winter
It flew into the soup pot
Slept on the spoon
Twisted into the plaits of the pretty girl
Got under the collar of her school shirt
On to the shelves of the wardrobes
And in between the clothes
It perched on the roofs like a crow
Like a parrot, crucified on the doors
A hung plate
And Cinderella sweeps the fog
It raises over her
And lingers
A hanging rope!
How for a faint light of a candle
In the fist of wind
To sweep darkness
From the faces of sad people:
Awake around its innocent light
Waiting for what to come?
A bright ghost appears
From between the wrinkles of night
A bewildered butterfly:
Thirsty to the light of a wakeful candle
Engulfed by a cloak of fog
Lost in the palm lines of clouds
It disappears
It gasps, tired
And drops from high
On the shivering flame of the candle
That glitters for a moment and dies
Forever!
(20/10/2005)
