Mr. Berg Waves to the Sky
He raised his hand above his head.
His hair was a surface of gray,
his hand a semaphore.
No one to answer, to call.
His hand raised, and he wasn’t sure.
The symmetry of his body broken,
one arm up, one arm down.
His name was still Berg.
His hand had spoken,
nevertheless, above him.
Iggy Azalea and black licorice
Léa Seydoux by Fred Meylan for Be Magazine, June 2013