Wandering Poem by Dorina Neculce

they gave me a baby
from the train
I did not know him
"It's yours, " they said
and
since then
I walk every day
ftom tostop him crying
the train is swinging us
and he sings for me
with a disappointed harp
my baby
never fall asleep
he stuck to a blue bench
He balances his hands
besides my inert body
looks at me
do not listen to me
but I know them
habits
whine
I get it in my arms
and we run
over the days
on an illusory field
terribly sad
occasionally
the black rose
flourish
and showing us candor and thorns