***
The light receives us as strangers
as roamers as the rats in rut sexonauts
with long tail, moulting angels
of the inferno, greedy for torment
and for gnawing and we’re basking
in luxury far from the woods far
from the birds, from peasant women,
from gypsy women, from the herds,
we drink in some brothels ‒ in front
of us follow one another black countries,
pincers, traps, train stations, for the rats
it can’t be the end of the world.
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