…or the seals
that dance like ghosts
in the darkness of Delos
that from afar
they look like
cold fires
and smiling
moons
girls with their irises
line their paradisiacal beauty
moons
and line the poets on walls
the other hangs himself talking
of endless verses
and squeezes his heart
like a sponge
blood drips with silver
reflections
moons
the grandmother knits the glove
the crazy man measures the storm
smoke of the universe
like a crown
once they enriched life
and now tugs of death
how they silence
the pale flowers of Epitaphios
you, oh, moons…
Libros Libertad 