Alexandre Ferrere: One Day

One Day

Alexandre Ferrere

“This is where I ache” she said pointing at the gut ted window.

She wanders in her own garden; the Gate is burning—remembering dismembering what stood here once.

() Tear as thick as mercury as hopeless as mercury as distant as Mercury.

(Together: that was be fore.)

She woke up one summer—she ate a cherry that was rotten, sweating love—égarée. First, the rancid fruit took her words away. Then the music of birds faded. Asphyxie.

[(r)evolve | re-love]

The sun cut the clouds against the white light & she sat & she knew without knowing.

She thought again: “my first gasp of air when I was born was a cry—I’m being born again, all the time.”

Now the marble under her flesh ripples & she hollers at the crowd, protesting her bro ken ribs & he art.