• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 03
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What Can Be Forgotten

Sometimes, when driving home,
I lose all consciousness
And wake up by a road
Surrounded by fir trees
Which do not speak to me.

A dead fox is seeping
Into the eternal
With its teeth like statues.

On some mornings I wake
And eat porridge with fruit.
Fir trees gather outside.
I take you in my arms.