[…]


Nathalie Trytell

When September Comes


In September
Always,
The devils’ spirit
Comes to crudely reawaken me
Beating bones, rattling my biceps like a thousand bells.

Then, my shoulders stretch like an earthquake,
Land erodes around my neck,
My spinal column, like a skyscraper,
Defeated by a collision, swoops down, and
Takes me to the ground.

Always in September, this cunning
The virtue of my right arm stolen
Going deep down under
In the darkness of a cave,
With the jokers.

return to SHAMPOO 15