11:04 p.m.
tuesday eve —
somewhere in the foliage
of trees, year unknown
***
i laid unto the
giant nest that
the broad branch
housed and dared
to welcome. the
lush leaves of the
willow hid me
away from
the world.
just the way i like it.
he, the wild one —
hung upside down.
his legs the only
anchor he has from
falling straight to
the stomach of the
earth. just like in
the balcony.
he swung back
and forth that it
made me want
to scold him for
doing it. but
being me — i
kept my mouth
zipped.
instead i savored
the feeling of the
wind. this was
their age. the age
that they were
alive. unlike
reality that forgot
the purpose of
these treasures.
trees were
abundant here.
singing with the
birds and dancing
with the wind.
i reached up
towards the sky —
praying, maybe
calling for the
object that i know
none of.
***
YOU ARE READING
Our Vintage Dance on the Phonograph
Poesía"you and - me, we traversed at the eve of the colossal pages of our bedroom balcony." - excerpt there is no other dancing partner i would dance with other than you, my sun. you bring me to places that are wiped out of history - to the gardens of rui...
