PIERROT Poem by Tsitsi Jaji
PIERROT
Under the bridge there are
stones growing
smooth with the
slippage of water
and the
smear campaign of silt.
The moon floats
closer
and closer,
trawling below the bridge.
Is it time
or a limpid ripple
of maize-silk swimming?
And while we look away
she glides under
to the other side.
Light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/30/2024 7:52:10 AM # 1.0.0.1119
