poem of a pillow

 

Paulina Metzscher

Gold of a newly wed

 Sparrow, in flight until

 life begins, ain't it a circle

Just one breath I can contain it

By my ear

At my chest

When you speak about me

I wonder who you are talking about.

Poem of a pillow

our dreaming is a long line of spit

still on my lip

as London goes by without a trace or a thought.

         /

A clock and I

no we don't get along

         /

Your heart line receding

I don’t know where you end

and I begin.