The Sticks and the Stones

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Nausicaa 355

The enormous look
Finds the tongue in suspicion and
Winds its loveliness around the eyes of the moon.

Then looking down
It watches the setting sun and
Quivers in the dark, waiting for time to begin.

We are ready to give in to desire
We are ready to drink at the shrine of irritation
We are ready to give thanks to the quiet

We would rather fix the grave with flowers
And collect the legs of the missing
Instead we go out to find our voice
And explain our sensation of fire
And listen with our hands in our pockets, once more,
To the song of loneliness