Messily.

 
It all starts from
A single word,
A tedious nuisance
That undramatically
Strives to unfold.
I bear it
At the borders
Of my peace
As I bear
Little insults
Pretending not
To be hurt.
There, my panic feeds
with guileful care
premenstrual fields
where I dream to smoke,
my gesture more
than my cigarette,
Inhaling memories,
And transparent,
Braided afternoons.

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Before sunrise.

 
You sleep
Curled up in bed
As in my lungs.
I look and think
That tranquility
Is only whole
When quiet.
I embrace you,
My heartbeat
Against yours.
My breathing slows down
In an attempt
To reach yours,
Each ordered breath
A taciturn pearl
Between two shells.
And as if in a
Theatrical performance
Everything else subsides.
And is contained
In one single enlargement
Of our chests.

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The bridge.

 
Sister in distress,
I hear those words
Like clinking coins
You have to pay
For having a soul,
The need for a soul.
And I feel that
Yes, it is a beautiful
Thing to die
In a free fall,
An embracing fall,
An awakening under
The pregnant sun
That promises other lights,
Over a bridge,
For bridges are there
To connect,
A way of pushing in labor
Toward the truth.
 

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