getippt  von Stephan Pfob

I am a scoundrel lost on a raid.
I am imaginary stones approaching.
I am a squirrel’s tail and restlessness.
I am a moth stuck in a jar with your smell and circling.
I am the color red plucked from Danube’s shores eight years ago replacing everything I knew.
I am a nub of chalk listening to the rain.
I am a milky tooth wrapped in this farewell letter.
I am the moonshine raped by poets.
I am a waiting raised in plates.
I am that cow still screaming, screaming.
And I am hope and care and goodness, still.
I am all that.
But I am not
what I could show to you.