one thousand years.

This time around

I’ll wait

I’ll wait
for you.
I wait, despite the Hour

untiring, for you to plant your
eyes on me,

claim my neck

as your territory,
unchartered, perhaps a wreck…

(yet not for long) then
the poison or the pain

past will be drawn when

you come, when you catch
that shiver I suddenly wore.
I’ll keep my watch

for one thousand years or

I think but a little more.
I will wait ’til you appear

by air or sea or land, -hear!
until you capture

my shadow and wear

it on your skin, so bare.
I’ll be twenty eight

for a thousand and a year
but I’ll wait

’til you draw near.












Photo: Marcel HARTMANN, Léa Seydoux series



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