When I said nothing happened
I lied to you.
It happens, it happens every day,
on bridges, in open spaces.
Because I yielded to love
I walk, for some an object of shame,
for others a mirror. Whoever looks at me
is turned to stone,

When I said nothing happened
I simply forgot. Since that day
all the drivers, all the pedestrians
have carried my name
(Shame) as a shield.
If a stone is thrown at me
I answer with stone . . .

When I said nothing happened,
I just lied.
This is what happens: I breathe, I exist.
My heart is a choking tumour, near the breast.
I cut out the tunes,
the malignant music, metastasis
which brings back the voices of lost days.
My heart is a celandine,
My love, can it be worth it? At night
my head hangs from my neck by a single hair
then morning, and the pain of the healed wound
and it starts all over again …


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