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.