a mexican woman wipes the sweat off her brow, smiles, and
rubs her pregnant belly - the sun shines and
every single grain of sand is sacred; the spaces
between them holy as they hold up snakes and crabs and castles.

if i could learn to be so good as such small tired stone
torn by rivers and seas i would hold you up - i will hold you
i will be the red wine coursing through yr. veins and the
hot smoke in your lungs, warming yr. belly making your head spin

my pockets are empty, though, and the rain will stop soon,
the sun will come, here, to this place, and with it so much
dust - the sun is a warning a soul should hope never to see

the earth is best - cool and wet - when the angel's shadows shelter
us from this desert heat, so let me love you in this shady
place while your thoughts grow still and your lungs empty.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

hosted by DiaryLand.com