L'aura del Campo

There comes a softening... (Ñ1, Ñ2, Ñ3, Ñ4)

There comes a softening...

...of the cock
who cockadoodledoo-ed
at dawn
when after sex
the lust is lost

and to the hills
when starlight fades
and folks arise
from empty beds.

© Kåre Enga [171.Ñ1]

There comes a softening...

...to dull stones
when waters wash away
the grit, revealing
polished gems

and to the gems
when time like water
wears all away
to nothingness.

© Kåre Enga [171.Ñ2]

There comes a softening...

...to a bruise
when purple fades to yellow
but not to the jaded
heart-of-stone
when traumatized,
betrayed,
as flesh may heal
but hurt remains.

© Kåre Enga [171.Ñ3]

There comes a softening...

...to mixed nuts
when gnawed and gnashed
by hungry teeth
each drop of oil hoarded
by thin flesh
holding off starvation's reach,
harsh reek of Winter's breath.

© Kåre Enga [171.Ñ4]

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