NaPoWriMo # 34

The inaccessible 

I entered 
the uncomfortable night

of your body

—tu amurallada ciudad—

with moistened footsteps,

and the long creak

of the catwalk was lost

amid the shouts of stevedores

and sailors.  

It was midnight

before I found your labyrinth.

You would be talking to me

about the fleeting language

of a broken clock, the wings

of your Moroccan city,

the life of its cobblestones,

when suddenly you become

the quiet rage, the trembling

conversation of doubts:

the inaccessible power 
of an orgasm.