Nathalie Trytell – When September ComesNathalie Trytell
When September Comes
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.
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