Unstable Stairway to-
Alexandre Ferrere
XXXX Public Library|—|WITHDRAWN a stamp in my book |—|misprinted in red on the first page. Parchemin, par chemin|—|saved from the bin. There’s a beam of sun|—|eating the pillow where your head slept|—|a few days ago. What was happening|—|behind those eyelids then? “I don’t even know you|—|anymore” you said one morning. I had to get out|—|waiting for the light to turn green Frôlé|—|by hundreds of beautiful faces packed in cars. Soon the sea|—|the same rocks, still here despite fears|—|past & future: I am my own tormented|—|boîte noire. Mad, the bed is mad|—|the sheets will die soon, et moi|—|la mousse aux lèvres, aussi. The cries in the barn|—|yard at night when everything is dead, es|—|pecially when it is about love, my love; A prison under the sea|—|I can’t think of your smile crouching in mine|—|the soul hidden the same. Why|—|are there tinsel sleeping on the shore? I have nothing|—|else to do but to notice it. Is that algae or your hair|—|dancing underwater? The wind feels|—|like cotton web & anyway it is too late for us|—|but is that a medusa or your shirt floating afar? Petrified|—|I saw you leaving but… Is it the sound of waves|—|or chains? I crave to come after myself|—|ruthless, but tôt ou tard I’ll know|—|that the most important silence was the one|—|preceding yours, the one you chose|—|to uncoil when dawn came. & I listened|—|& I listened to your appetite for nothingness. Qu’il aimait|—|qui l’aimait: it is far away now. I thought|—|there was a moon but it was just a parabola. Le soleil impitoyable|—|blanc; vide. I heard birds & I looked towards them|—|& you looked the other way, your eyes on vacant apartments|—|“to let”. I wore sunglasses & it was night already|—|& I was drunk with sea. Je chasse demain|—|à grands coups de coups de pied|—|dans les pommes de pin. To quit|—|is a labor of love. .|—|. -you 53
