When Magritte died
The stones fell to the ground
The birds divorced their leaves
The night and day agreed to differ
The breasts became blind
The cunt was struck dumb
The tubas extnguished their flames
The pipe remembered its role
The words looked up what they meant in the dictionary
The clouds turned acstract
The ham closed its eye for ever
When Magritte died.
When Magritte died
The toes hid modestly in their shoes
The mountains no longer envied their eagles
The apple shrunk to the size of an apple
Or did the room grow to the size of a room?
The bowler hat lost its ability to astonish
The old healer
Returned from a dip in the sea
Put on his trousers
his boots
his cloak
his hat
Picked up his stick
his sack
his cage of doves (clanging its door to)
And set off on his banal journey
When Magritte died.
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