The Clear Dampness of your Face
Are you willing to fill my white spaces?
Can we conspire, can you force me
to exhale my infinite hunger of you?
Must you radiate the thirst of my skin
through the endless latitudes, the nectars
of your sex? Am I losing my footing
inside the ruins of this sinister hotel?
When are you hiding these overcast words
and their meanings? Who can ignore
the fear of men knee deep in the turbid
waters of an ocean guided by the intuition
of drowned colors?
Ay, mi soledad,
for the absence
of figurative speech.