From further distance

Your
face
Whispered to me
Of delicate
stringboards

And against
everything
What
Of order
itself
and others
The custom
necessary

Not at all
on the mountain
barefoot
at the
mother’s breast
As an adult
To their
milk
insatiable
to ask

Further to
drink
Her
At her
chest
Hang on
stay
as a
forever
fresh
retarded
infant

How tender
are you
My heart
faithfully and
close
From further
distance