The Boar

you are my milk

and the subtle


of my hips

you are almost

the soil


you are not energy

or fresh movement

I think your body

is lost


this kind of boar sinks in the mud

and this

motherly love

sinks deeper

where the dirt is home


this is not time

for looking backwords

(nothing will

ever change)


I think


wakes up like yesterday

and you will


and be