happy halloween

for it is on the threshold of death
before being transformed
he endures no gash other than that of circumcision

and it is upon return from exile
that he alone has entered into abjection

we hear the train roaring
it is coming

these green and pink flames
dancing around
in a few rare flashes of Celine's laughter

he had reminded us of ambivalent hostility
a shooting dual relationship
the daughter so often silent

if phobia is a metaphor that has mistaken its place
overcome by the corpse
he is no longer huddled outside aggressive fetishism

with mouths that he fills with words
instead of his mother