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Internationale Gedichte Sämtliche nicht-deutschsprachige Gedichte. |
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14.03.2021, 13:13 | #1 |
The Quietude of Organs
I suppose this is a sick silence,
This peculiar thickening of the air. It is the silence of those waiting To be cut open, and The stillness of those Firmly stitched shut. I take care not to stir the tender muteness Coloured by polka-dotted surgery gowns Punctured by the sudden scrape of suitcase wheels Just two floors down They are louder than the airy rustling of nurses Outside my door. The quietude of organs Airing their prophecies in quatrains Like Nostradamus They squeeze new bodies into existence A mitosis of minimal means Moulding stand-ins and extras Crash test dummies Stupidly insisting on life. Why didn't they grow a patient ear? Or an extra helping hand? |
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