Roland Bastien - Mother

Hitherto, the Nymph
Lulled to sleep
Dreams
Brought by the winds
Shrilled in the dark
To her lair
Under a lump.

Eclectic sounds
In dodecaphonic mode
dotted the air
Nights and days
Vanished in the flood
Of tumular light
And sprinkled with froth
The city of stones.

Milk gushed from her breasts
Peered at the door
Thus, girded the lump.

From her tits
Lips read
(Fondled like a child)
Crystal notes and echoes
Dropped one by one
To ease the sham.

Hitherto, fiddle
Became gleam
Brought by the wind
Shrilled in the dark
Under a lump.

Roland Bastien

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