They called me the hyacinth girl

‘Read me the hyacinth part.’
‘Its my favorite part.’
‘Are you the hyacinth girl?’
‘No, no, I’m the speaker.’
‘The speaker is a man.’
‘But I still had a hyacinth girl’
He was sat by the window
His hair curled, face angled
toward the light, I could not speak, and my eyes failed,
I was neither living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Empty and desolate the sea.

- Jane Potthast, 2012 / Tilbake