Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Mohamed Bachkar

Toppling down

Fear not my toppling down
Which schisms melodised
In their scale’s flute
Or my singing
Which in heaven
Measures my wounds
With the stab of its beak;
For like a foetus I am
Despite
Women’s stoning me
With the moons in their breasts

TOPPLING DOWN

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Toppling down

Fear not my toppling down
Which schisms melodised
In their scale’s flute
Or my singing
Which in heaven
Measures my wounds
With the stab of its beak;
For like a foetus I am
Despite
Women’s stoning me
With the moons in their breasts

Toppling down

Fear not my toppling down
Which schisms melodised
In their scale’s flute
Or my singing
Which in heaven
Measures my wounds
With the stab of its beak;
For like a foetus I am
Despite
Women’s stoning me
With the moons in their breasts
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Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
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