I Let Myself Fall
I know my life
will end the way
a storm ceases―
dissolved in your
image
already water
I’ll return
to your sweetness―
sparkling wings
of doves spread
more air
than the hurricanes
your face
lost in the crowd,
using my hand
as its bed,
as its bed,
dictates my death
a throb under
the asphalt awaits
...
the stream of life
that shapes and
destroys me
arrives at your shrine
crossing your
garden,
pierced so many
times
by the
bougainvillea
I turn away life
forgetful of the tumble
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