Poem: That With Another
that of myself, that of you, that of my
brother, and now my mother.
I stand alone, I claim it my own
and it belongs to me.
I flick through those pictures strewn, pictures thrown
the moon's transparent light, flickering night's shades
I claim them my own; they belong to me.
That of myself, of me, of my brother
That of my mother, and that of you
that with another.
Photo Credit: En Dcalage by Arnaud Bertrande
