to make you believe
that something is not true
i must deny the truth
about what really happened
out there at
the top of that plateau
where each slate levels off
to the usual
must i invent some pictures again
to convince you
that she was not there?
must i draw a river to make you
believe that once upon a time
a little fish swims its slimy way
into my mind?
must i make a twist of words
bend some phrases? must i end
a clause with a semi-colon?
truth sometimes feels insulted
on that day when Thomas demanded
that he slips his fingers on the
side of the newly born Christ
who should not have been touched
because it is still on its way
to perfection...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem