(no subject)
Sep. 5th, 2013 08:01 pmWhen Death comes home from the cemetery,
she passes kitchen where the dinner's waiting
and passes on the bed, shoes on, exhausted.
You stop and hold your breath and fork and knife;
you need a moment for the appetite
to overcome the stale exasperation --
Just like it does on every morning when
she climbs on top of you and starts to wriggle.
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(some other self-translations)
she passes kitchen where the dinner's waiting
and passes on the bed, shoes on, exhausted.
You stop and hold your breath and fork and knife;
you need a moment for the appetite
to overcome the stale exasperation --
Just like it does on every morning when
she climbs on top of you and starts to wriggle.
---
(some other self-translations)