Gedicht
Liyou Libsekal
GOSPELS
GOSPELS
GOSPELS
I live in a bed of days and paperbetween the threads of a graying sweater
strands of yarn raveling out.
I’ve never been far from my gospels.
Hours weave, and I collect words
a graveyard of pens and discarded notes.
I am slow moving and unholy.
I sink in the discomfort
wear it in like this old sweater
frayed and ill fated.
I am fragile in this disorder.
© 2020, Liyou Libsekal
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GOSPELS
I live in a bed of days and paperbetween the threads of a graying sweater
strands of yarn raveling out.
I’ve never been far from my gospels.
Hours weave, and I collect words
a graveyard of pens and discarded notes.
I am slow moving and unholy.
I sink in the discomfort
wear it in like this old sweater
frayed and ill fated.
I am fragile in this disorder.
GOSPELS
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