If your work was completed, could be complete,
Infatuated servant who covets me from so low,
Prolonging the acrid rapture
Of seeing my birth and stay
As wizard and fork, cliff and torpor…
But it is untrue that she has been in flight
For thousands of years.
My nails clinging to her black silk net
She drops me, and my forehead strikes
The enchantment of slabs.
Around us are woven and tightened
The dialects of the abyss.
Her retiary’s love is terrible and prolix,
Its last mesh flashes
At the same instant as the knife.
Blended into the air, into new speech,
The hiatus of a crime is what all foundation lacks.
—Jacques Dupin, “Daybreak”
Art Credit Miaz Brothers via Booooooom
