Open your hands, I go.
arms hugging dresses,
your mouth is the cave where
crimson cover all your souls.
Let your teeth scroll
as
sweet chain that binds you to me. Lames
my skin looking for a new identity,
lost and all things names in a syllabary
butterflies.
A sandal adheres
my direction to catch
my steps
in a corner that you learn as a
luciernaga prayer.
Open hands, I approach.
Dresses grips on the arms,
your mouth is a cave
where crimson cover their souls.
Let go through their teeth
like running fresh
that to me.
licks my skin
in search of a new identity,
already lost
all the names of things
a syllabary of butterflies.
A sandal gird
my course
to arrest my steps
a corner that you learn
as a prayer of fireflies.
(of A Ollada Astarte, Espiral Maior Ed, 2007 )
Pictures: Steven Klein and Steve Diet Goedde
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