Poezja

In-between the spaces
body moves
untouching you.
 
A poem crashes
on the tongue. You
will not confess.
 
The wordless thoughts
swim like swans
noiselessly.
 
Unreaching the abode,
you will invent a god
for a knifed boat.
 
The sea is turbulent,
you will still sail,
not to reach anywhere.