She once served the broth
and it soon coated my every appendage.
The broth contains caresses
and rocks transfigured to mountains by moss.
Moss intensified my vision of her…
She lost depth in the hole made mute
by the continuous echo of one drop
of pure smooth lucid liquid
from my eye:
That tear only dreamed of after 20 day bacchanals
I signed the letter:
In absolute slavery
to the memory of your subterranean irradiated white river
Your dry eye and lucid internal eruption pressing me
It always presses and bleeds
blue early morning light
This imprint of sensation
will remain
The redemption of every recurring instant
and every midnight gasp will signal your presence.
This browfire I mold at will
does submit as immaculately as your memory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem