Sometimes I paint, untranslatable words…

Mångata (Swedish) The road-like reflection of the moon on the water


You hold the moon in your hands,

peel it, place a slice on my tongue.

Ask me not to speak,

to feel instead, tell me

everything catches light, catches fire

when it has the room to breathe.

I want to give you this night

this sea–

my thoughts

small ripples at the shore,

your body

the path the moon takes.



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