my baby

Gustaf Munch-Petersen: The Lowest Country

when you can’t

love my baby,

nothing matters –

 

it doesn’t matter,

that you never sleep –,

that your features drill

like roots, which never descends –,

that you love me –

 

day and night

day and night

my baby counts

the fragments of my heart,

re-orders them –

when my baby sleeps,

I am

nothing –

 

without loving my baby,

you shall never get to see me –