Curse on the Clock- Stefan Hertmans
April 17, 2012, 7:26 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

You didn’t make the glass
break because your lips shivered;
I longed for this swilling to bits
because there was nothing possible left.

You want something so badly
the days snow in your head.
Clock-hands, pendulums
in thin bodies, breathing is

hesitation between what’s on its way
and already was. You can
read the numbers in my skin.

Tomorrow you’ll be striking like
an old affair in the hall.
With each stroke you’ll measure
the shivering of desire.

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