Words From The Second Mother Poem by Marcel Aouizerate

In the lacunary, where we settle,

She speaks from a position of authority

My second mother of complete-truths

Let her speak, when she says

People are optical illusions, with their

Short shadows and quick magic tricks:

People are optical illusions lacking prestige.

Let my mother whisper when she spirits

Men of the beds in which they slept so far

Dragging them out in the lacunary;

There she adds: love's an engine

Not a camera, however large the room.