Someone like me who’s condemned to lifelong dying,
At the last moment, won’t be imploring, crying;
I won’t comb my audience for fellow-feeling
Who are seeing the future still appealing;
Death will come to me so relieving
That the only thing I’ll be seeing
Is the last chance for rhyming,
Taking it well and poetizing
My last poem, rising
As best forgoing
With me dying,
And taking,
Hiding
My
M
Y
…
Benyamin Bensalah
18.01.2020
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