17.-Territory with no harbor Poem by Dolores Dorantes

"17.-Territory with no harbor, territory with no stopping place, body with empty heart. Place drained of blood we are all yours running. All running to enter you. We are a sea of naked girls. Happy in the midst of the howling. We get to your chest. Armed with girl masks and animal tongues. You nearly die. More than this territory of uncertainty. We are yours. For your will and we want what is ours. We're moving along, arranging ourselves there. Heating it up there. We run like blood runs and the lobelias of fear. We enter like cool air. We place ourselves tidily like soldiers or jewels."