Sometimes a Wild God | Coyopa :: lightning in the blood. Sometimes a wild god comes to the table. He is awkward and does not know the ways Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver. His voice makes vinegar from wine. When the wild god arrives at the door, You will probably fear him. He reminds you of something dark That you might have dreamt, Or the secret you do not wish to be shared. He will not ring the doorbell; Instead he scrapes with his fingers Leaving blood on the paintwork, Though primroses grow In circles round his feet. You do not want to let him in. The dog barks. The wild god stands in your kitchen. ‘I haven’t much,’ you say And give him the worst of your food. When your wife calls down, You close the door and Tell her it’s fine.
The wild god asks for whiskey And you pour a glass for him, Then a glass for yourself. Oh, limitless space. You cough again, Expectorate the snakes and Water down the whiskey, Wondering how you got so old And where your passion went. The wild god reaches into a bag Made of moles and nightingale-skin. Before I Die. GELENEKSEL TÜRK EBRU SANATI. Atelier des Elfes.Création de Bijoux.Tour d'oreille. Diadème elfique. Les Enfants de l'Arche - Association Artistique - Edition BD Artbook Photo Illustrations Jeunesse Roman.
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