Les îles Noires

beneath the pitiless gaze of things 
  we interlock in tight coils 
  the outbreak of plague a little while before 
  scorched flowers 
  beautifully died with blood 
  the relics of our yesterday 
  a young beast 
  quietly waiting 
  and then with stealthy footsteps 
  imposing its presence more and more 
  it disappears when you doubt 

  the tiredness of the days of indecision 
  has left us stranded 
  wrapped in the folds of the rainy season 
  it disappears when you doubt 
  it disappears when you doubt