you do not see me
a little girl from un unknown town
thrown away from sea to sea
and wet your bed with her dreams
you do not see me
a beautiful curse
spat out of my mother’s tongue
and the fire in my father’s hands
you do not see me
a mistaken lover
wandering through a harsh winter in her head
leaving you forever guilty
you do not see me
a shivering mother
crushing the train’s wheels
crumpling her heart in a plastic bag
you do not see me
a hungry pigeon
strutting away from its crowd
into the dust, into the dust
you do not see me
until you see the last light over saint-séverin
and gulp the parisian rain
with joy, with joy
paris, 15 sept 2016
dina oktaviani 