My love
Because I felt the first smell of summer
I thought I'd live a thousand years
with you
but I was late there have been
to train your eyes
then down against the road
among the burdock and nettles purple
beat the bushes drumming
above with palms wool
cardée by brambles
future undertook to undeceive me
vira blue-silence
while the pods of broom to sweep
crashed into dry on the sky
bent to the left in the smell of your fingers.
Therese Plantier
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