Towns with their dead Poem by Nicole Brossard
Towns with their dead
no graveyards actually only the dead
words to not say, no given names, no one's name
no misfortune yet, little steps that ice over
each year I walk through a new town
with words, bones, hair, glasses
I walk with someone who wrote a book
"then went away on tiptoes"*
to find the horizon of horizon's tomorrow
*Anne Hébert
Translated by Sylvain Gallais and Cynthia Hogue
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 5:58:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
