Rilke Series No. 53

And God said to me, write

And I tore the mare’s rib

And I swallowed my own heartbeat.

Nothing, Gaupa, has it’s tongue

In you. I grew my confidence like a stone

In the middle of a city. Bells told me to

Love. He bit half a tomato. A man,

whose hands—how could I know

if they prayed, know if they’d

hold me the same in another place. If I was born

With chants in my mouth, if I was a strong wind,

if I grew again into the mountain mouth,

I’d sing—Take me. Now, I sing take me. Now

My heart beat His stone.


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