the warmth in my blood is a lifetime of knives
quarrels with the moon, magnificent
the warmth in my blood is a delight

though i have doubts    i weigh and decide about other’s lives
no idea of existence puts color in my cheeks
this blood has some light from the birth of the sky:

those in the towers    left behind
the ocean parted from its farthest shore
beneath a pearl of light that failed to march with time

No comments:

Post a Comment