Alive in the dagger’s instantaneous lip
in the daily arrested hour
The debts grow they’re already rough
they hurt the skin they’re already pus
The day starts out from shadows
as a people starts from dust
Hour after hour light and death coincide
The debt spreads it spreads its wings
it seizes my weak dreams everything tempts it
Behind the gesture I make
my hand is alone my fingers conspire
asymmetrically
sticking out from my body until death
I’d give them away today if I could
But what weapon can separate them from me?
While I’m thinking
the debt keeps growing
http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poet/item/4651
