OBSERVATORY

Thieves of the sun

who never saw any green branch

who never touched a fiery mouth

who don’t know the colour of the sky

secure in dark rooms

don’t know whether they’ll die

they lurk

with black masks and detailed telescopes

in their pockets dirtied stars and bread crumbs

with the stones of the timid in their hands

they long for the light of different planets

to die

spring will be evaluated based on its joy

on the colour of each flower

each hand based on its caress

each kiss based on its shiver

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