anton ivanov


Toll


Stay with me, my morning

won’t you sing for me, once more

now that the evening sun

is rising so distant that

the days have become long

and the light has become slow


The reeds in the bough

that rise and fall

wait for the spring that comes and is

a disquietude that rains in the heart


Never has the past

seemed so dark

to us who witness

the blight of a moon

that is here to stay

a starlight that falls down

like kicks on these rocks

like lashes on these shores


I read in Larkin about

the yet shoreless day


About the flames that break loose


About the bell that dries my throat




anton ivanov//@batailleordie

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