THE LAST ONE
The last one in your life
is not that one, which trots about boldly in your dream,
you are speaking something in your language.
It’s not that one for which
you fight with dragon and brothers
you offer a sour apple as ripe.
It’s not that one that transforms you into a lizard
that bites your tail,
you run away out of your skin.
It’s not the one which rips her womb,
you hear your name multiplied.
It’s not that one with a bust like oranges,
you drink fresh juice under the tight pullover.
It’s not the other one that gets out of the herbarium
you decorate your boutonniere.
It’s not a friend who is chasing you
with the hell of good intentions,
you are looking like an old dog.
The one you keep for last
is a Sherpa
with equipped heart
who carries you out the snow of your snowdrifts
on the ridge of the mountain.
Instead of two coins
fallen stars settle
upon your eyelids.
*****
