The mirror gives me back the image
of an exquisite delicacy:
body and skin that delight with their aroma.
I smell myself, I slide my tongue
by the back of my hand
and my taste captivates me.
I put a finger in my mouth
I bite it
and I drink from the red fountain whose fluid
is already running through my lips.
I practice autophagy
as the only form of food.
I have myself, I like myself, I am enough.
YOU ARE READING
Tangled
PoetryEnglish poetry. Aquí encontrarás alguno de mis poemas traducidos al inglés. Pronto saldrán a la luz en versión bilingüe e ilustrada junto a poemas de mi libro en físico "Mía" y otros tantos ineditos 🤗. Ayuda a la traducción: Sara Walsh 🖤🤍 Porta...
