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TWO MONTHS AFTER LUC'S DEATH The sun shines through a tall man’s ears making them glow. Children watch the garbage truck through the holes in the fire fence. The morning passes through the child’s sifter in the sandbox And through the households Immersed in ritual. A child touches the birthmarks On his father’s back Saying, “Sun. moon, sun.” The summer moves forward With picnics And questions retrace themselves in the bones of my fingers.
Luc Leplae's Comic pages.