Accident

Crying runs out of the house naked
And from the middle of the garden, naked
The alley runs under a truck 
The city is drowned in the bath by a piece of eye
That has opened to my hands 
And the hair in this picture
Is pulled by your voice so blood 
May flow or not 
What is the sea doing
In the middle of my crotch
These tears 
That have nothing to do with eyes 
I'm not the kind of headline you read
From the paper wrapped round your herbs
From the market
Or a channel to broadcast me
Saying I have hands behind the border 
Or have eyes everywhere
Or to hear from the BBC
That I am fine but father 
is not there every day to drive
To the end of good news
And then return me to 7 years of age
To a mother I fished out of the house 
But the father let her go 

Be quiet, solitude 
What didn't  the war do 
In the midst of grenades 
To take my feet from the bed
And throw me far
far far  away 

Being far from you 
I am the victim of a big war
Where you were shooting in the air
And me running out of the house
To run under a truck
Naked 

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