Poem: ‘The Revenant’
Tom Paulin, 3 January 2019
after Baudelaire
Like those angels with rough – rough or roughened eyes I’ll come back to the little alcove where you try to fall asleep.
I’ll slip in between the sheets without a sound from the dark, no the darksome night, and I’ll give you, burnt woman the coldest of kisses and the hugs of a snake in a smelly grave.
When the dawn comes without a sound...