Every time summer vacation came round, the parents were in the habit of sending their two children to the country, far away from the bustle of the city. So every July, Julien and his little siste ... [+]
feeling like a dog's
wet breakfast, I comb my hair
and dress in a cleaner
shirt. in the kitchen,
you move bottles
off the table,
careful as a bulldozer
knocking houses
in palestine. the sun lands
on the front
of the building, twisting
like the face
of a sunflower. windows
gape open around us,
bringing light
and hairbrush-dry heat.
wet breakfast, I comb my hair
and dress in a cleaner
shirt. in the kitchen,
you move bottles
off the table,
careful as a bulldozer
knocking houses
in palestine. the sun lands
on the front
of the building, twisting
like the face
of a sunflower. windows
gape open around us,
bringing light
and hairbrush-dry heat.