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 –
