an almost accidental gathering of poets
 
   
 
 
Klaus ten Eicken
 
Going Home to anay
I’ve been drinking tonight.
I’m dancing now.
Hovering out into the desert
on rhythm and sound
like a torn off leaf.
Passing the ghosts of my mother,
I vanish in between
the lines of vision,

entering my secret valley
where I can be naked
where I am
where the warm sands gently stroke my thirsty skin
and where I can hear myself
breathe.

I am invisible tonight.
Invincible.

When I dance,
I am a three-year-old goddess;
too young
to be afraid
   
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