a poem from the first day of april
Added 2025-05-13 14:37:26 +0000 UTCi take myself
to cold river
holding flora
the whole way
/
gently and fiercely
/
the lips
of this flower
smell of honeysuckle
and what is this urge to consume
/
what we love?
/
wind
caresses skin
icy air, sweet milk
and the brilliant sun
/
reveals and reveals more
/
you cling
to your confusion
your confusion
does not cling
/
to you
turn around —
now
look at yourself!
