Fait divers Poem by Rose-Marie François
Fait divers
On disait :
Les grands bois sombres
et on tremblait.
Rien
à l'heure opaque
que les branches qui craquent -
résine surchauffée.
L'oeil agrandi cherche une luciole,
l'appoint d'une pensée.
Mais au clair du néon
les sapins vont l'amble.
La nuit ne fait plus peur
ni l'ogre.
Les enfants eux-mêmes
sont des tueurs.
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
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5/4/2024 3:31:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
