EVEN your skin is my skin turned on,
surrounds me like a rope hanging from the olive
and mouth of Judas pronounce your name.
do not need
that sank the dagger in the absence wound
know very well how oblivion is woven,
how to keep the kisses
transgressed someday dreams.
always knew who you were
and taste of your eyes painful exiles.
My grief smells shadow
at the last petal that skims
time and my face, grimace
arched reed, draw
defeats.
( of Online Mares, ed. Sial, 2008 )
Image: Christophe Gilbert
