Among the wall behind me
and you roll your eyes and
time
drowned in lust with no hands. Twelve more moons
last word without sound and one day since
but soon lost in the limbo where silence
plays to the king.
and prepares to sleep
the smile that first saw the days shorten the wire and now the goal
recount
other twelve moons living
to grab the day of hope
cut in the garden of your forgetfulness.
tiziana Mignosa
December two thousand and
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