Gedicht
Paula Meehan
KIPPE
KIPPE
KIPPE
Like a knitted Dutch mittenfound in a patch of snow
I pull the word for little house
over my frozen fingers –
crawling in sunlight
over my own shadow
dragging my bundle of hides
my bundle of skins
towards the door and in
to the stink of sleep
my hand thawed at last
from its carapace of ice.
© 2005, Paula Meehan
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KIPPE
Like a knitted Dutch mittenfound in a patch of snow
I pull the word for little house
over my frozen fingers –
crawling in sunlight
over my own shadow
dragging my bundle of hides
my bundle of skins
towards the door and in
to the stink of sleep
my hand thawed at last
from its carapace of ice.
KIPPE
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LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère