(Hello, dear-issimi, this poems which is neither to be judged nor commented,
is entitled,
"A proper job" in honor of the present ongoing thread. Saluti, Erminia)
"A proper job"
It could be objected so
that my vest is
too candid
compared to the power of
will.
she understood her life
as a flower understands a sunny day,
- spring, introspections -
unable to discover in herself
neither rain nor grail.
Open to doubts,
this latter possibility,
filled the sky with a gray
tint, the table, the chair, the entire room,
beyond proportion.
In rapture,
To capture the oppositional
tensions of those undefined bodies
wearing immaculate vests,
exposed like crop on a September field.
And, never wasted always re-employed.
erminia
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