Tomorrow

one day,
when the stars still look
pretty in the face of the night,
and jokes try to replace
the tragedy language,
i will tell my daughter, Nell
to not be fooled.
wars can alter the
the face of a gorgeous night,
put your pharynx in between teeth
and curse
the day you knew your mother.
jealousy can teach you songs
that make you age fast
as can bigamy
and chauvinism.
when the world suggests
to finally hold hands
we would look out for palms
that would leave prints of betrayal,
we would give a knuckle instead.
we would lie in bed
and count the few
exits that exist
when one has to run.

Əĺļə