LAST CHAPTER IV CART BEFORE THE SCAFFOLD.
& then another death, accidental! Extreme Unction volatile after weeks of deprivation ... & Then attending funerals ... & Then the only burial in the brains of family. Meeting at the Mission Mortuary ... Clash ...
This great flight of skirts, years ago, a hand in all folds. Mother ... landed on my curls. Let your hands above the sheets! I'll tell you. That's nice. The pellet was a merchant for or against thirst, Omnes doctor to serve you ... A medical merchant brown funny, wandering in a house overrun with green plants, the smell of floor wax. Day of bed rest on the veranda ... Rainstorm ... A fat cat who snores ... Mother, where? A pot of cream to scrub the hands of the clock in the waiting room.
Omnes without blinking, without breathing, blood in his eyes: there is no need to clean needles, the clock stopped many miles from here, on the edge of sleep. Clash.
Mother ... hanging on the phone from the floor in anguish. A ride through the fields and the telephone who jumps at every groove.
In the waiting room, the snake fell from my hands and planted her fangs into my flesh through the blue stuff.
Needles ... The cream ...
A Turkish backwards towards the station. Clash.
"cart before the last scaffold" published in October 1981 in the No. 23 of the journal PUSHER (JP Lesieur, ed.)
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