mais um...

meu, sem traduzir...


What’s left

i.

women and men, the
ceaseless battle. i saw you there
on the horizon where
the dancing was meant
to stop. you followed me
into my cave, around the
lime green of the stones
and the sleeping rattlers.
for the millionth time, the
charms failed: running
from you, turning toward
your absence.

ii.

hearts, eyes, tendons. i
have spent all on this long
hike against the wind. now
i am falling downhill again,
rolling, tumbling.
love is a dry bone. love is
your finger against my lips
silencing me.