THE EXILE DIARIES
20th of December
Not a cow nor a dog in the fields;
the collar of the guard is raised;
wind blows away the fluff of everything
nothing is soft anymore.
A woman in the front step of her house
lights her heater
the wind took her place in the room
smell of coal floats
and the woman resembles a door.
If someone laughs in the wind
it’s not because of joy but of insistence;
a laughter possesses nothing
nor with the fear of possessing anything.
