Comments about Louise Martin
You Are Standing At The Lonely Pier Of My Death
the sky is not how you want it to be,
and you are looking through splintered
wood beneath your feet. Sand-spray is leaping
and you hold on to the cold railing.
I was here with you once
it was a sunny day
our eyes were squinting
and we were laughing about nothing -
It was like this: we would laugh and cry
in the same moment;
somehow your hands cried too,
they moved with your tears
and I held them, my two hands,
your two hands - our palms climbing
on each other, like when we made love.
And now your hands hold a cold railing ...