Late afternoon Friday my... «Collected Poems»
innashpitzberg6 мая 2013Late afternoon Friday my last sight of you alive burning your letter to me in the ashtray with that strange smile…
And I had started to write when the telephone Jerked awake, in a jabbering alarm, Remembering everything. It recovered in my hand. Then a voice like a selected weapon Or a measured injection, Coolly delivered its four words Deep into my ear: Your wife is dead.
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