Toba 7
With my sulky mouth shut
again I am unjust to words
As my punishment
I hear the ocean tide through the night
I write:
all poetry is empty words
and I continue writing
My child wakes up suddenly in the middle of the night
she sobs quite a while
I want to be honest
Even a dying soldier is not honest
My cigarette ashes fall on my lap
I will not dream now
though I am so sleepy