Waiting for the cloud

January 8th, 2005 by Samuel Tardieu

The river was rainbow stew, the fishes choked and cursed.
The thirsty dogs spat fire, rolled in glue, then they burst.
The fur balls flying, trees were dying–
dandelions were crippled, bald . . .
We saw it all in colour–
now we’re waiting for the cloud.
A mother forcefed baby milk
which ticked and bubbled black.
She sank it back with plastic […]

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