2012/04/13

Rimbaud

In the morning, his almond lips
drench the man of symbols

Languid limbs curl across him
as youth holds no restrictions

between new lovers
The stench of liquor

affixes itself to chests
to thighs, to underarms

In the dark, in the damp
the small Ardennes accent stops and waits

to hear its name tied
upon the cream coloured moon