Freshly cut tulips

like those strange

lips
of Ulysses’

mermaids,
they drag me

away, keep

my heart

drinking
in their tavern.
I’m a crackled

painting
hung

on the faint

walls
of freshly cut

tulips.
Into the cracks

they sound

a wordless

hum,
leaving

me stranded,

faint,
on those strange

lips
of Ulysses’

mermaids

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

______________

Photo: Jean-Michel HATTON