Pierre Martory, p.2
AFTER A BALL
-What did you do last night Hippolyta?
The wine was roaring in the rusty canals
-I don’t respond to shameless whistles
So give me my gloves forgotten under a candle
-Did you show the hummingbirds
Your naked stomach washing the lace?
-I only rolled my pearl necklace
No letter no gift no lover no husband
-Already you’re like my lies
Voice hand weaving stubborn errors
-My belt and my thighs are strewn with poplars
A dove’s reflection has nested under my curls
-I shoot a Venetian glass with an ancient bullet
The trick exhausts me another would know better...
-No, dear, the honey flows a music in love
With itself. Find, keep my gloves. Farewell.
-What did you do last night Hippolyta?
The wine was roaring in the rusty canals
-I don’t respond to shameless whistles
So give me my gloves forgotten under a candle
-Did you show the hummingbirds
Your naked stomach washing the lace?
-I only rolled my pearl necklace
No letter no gift no lover no husband
-Already you’re like my lies
Voice hand weaving stubborn errors
-My belt and my thighs are strewn with poplars
A dove’s reflection has nested under my curls
-I shoot a Venetian glass with an ancient bullet
The trick exhausts me another would know better...
-No, dear, the honey flows a music in love
With itself. Find, keep my gloves. Farewell.