I remember the spot on the balcony-wall
Pleasure-made, blackish brown on cyan,
as I rubbed and rubbed my feet
laying the dust on plaster,
some underneath. Never thinking why.
When I came back here,
opened my world of closed-down familiarities again,
I smelt and felt and licked and ran and
became crazy again,
I understood why I had made that spot on the wall.
Years ago, I painted a part of my soul
inside that house. Auburn-black.
I came back searching for that road long forgotten,
just to find a sapling in place of a dead tree.