Listen, I demand your eyes to listen
and as the melodies murmur to you
let each stanza and interlude spring forth
images that form symphonic tapestries of
our sojourn, and let each chorus remind you
of every pivotal choreography that rendered
my feet recklessly dancing towards you—
gravity betraying what I rehearsed for
five thousand years, each act making the
audience burst into a ghostly applause
let each beat seep deep into your skin
and smell as it tear your veins to atoms
taste the lyrics I so patiently wrote
while you were deep in your slumber
and when I hold your hand for a waltz
let your body be soaked with the somber
strumming of the guitar until we melt away
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoesíaI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
