At Each Loss
I renovate at each day
at each nail
each eyelash, each hair
at each silly feeling I thought it was a dream
and which was just a nightmare.
I change at each pain
at each stab from destiny
at each horror
for realizing I hadn't live,
yet for a brief moment,
some flaming blaze
that could have awoke my libido
I allow my death at each loss
and I convert myself through the holy communion
so God can concede me
ressurrection at the third day
And yet that it bleeds a little
and that there's crying at each funeral of mine
There will never be another dead
(and see that it is my spoil)
that have lived so ardently!
Patricia Evans
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